


lead me back (to you)

by inaraizaki



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Break Up, College Student Miya Osamu, College Student Sakusa Kiyoomi, Drunken Confessions, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou, Pining Sakusa Kiyoomi, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Unrequited Crush, kiyoomi and osamu are best friends because why not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29262579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inaraizaki/pseuds/inaraizaki
Summary: In which Sakusa Kiyoomi confesses to the wrong twin but soon finds himself at home in the arms of the right one.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 111
Kudos: 202





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> this idea has been haunting me since last year so i finally gave in and wrote it. this is my first time writing for sakuatsu so please be nice cause i'll cry [hides under the blanket] anyway i'm still currently writing this fic so i'll be updating it weekly! i hope you like it <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ah, Omi-kun,” the man chuckles, deep and breathy. He takes off the hat that used to cover the bright color of his hair. He blinks rapidly, eyes focusing better at the sight in front of him. Kiyoomi gulps. It's no longer the color of piss, just the perfect light blond, unlike back in high school. He runs his fingers through the blond locks. Dyed blond, not brown. “I had no idea you liked me back.”

Beneath the glow of flashing lights, under the weight of several scrutinizing gazes of strangers, and amongst hushed whispers of contempt, Kiyoomi's life takes a sharp turn.

It all starts like this.

  
  


“Miya, listen to me,” Kiyoomi slurs, head spinning and legs wobbling as he makes his way across the room. His sight is a little blurred but his eyes quickly focus on the couch where his longtime crush sits, cross-legged and head tilted down, a cap hiding his face.

The sound of the bass drops and drums in his chest but the music coming from the speakers remains to be moderate. Neither too loud nor too soft for a party. Just enough that Kiyoomi is sure a number of people without a doubt heard his grunted call.

There isn’t a big crowd surrounding him as he waddles, feet almost dancing in a zigzag motion. He doesn’t feel a stranger’s skin touching him nor smells the pungent scent of alcohol and smoke. Kiyoomi continues to tread the floor with a clear goal in mind. _Miya, Miya, Miya_. His brain only repeats one thing from inside his head. _Miya, Miya, Miya_. No one else matters. Just Miya.

Kiyoomi moves—forward, closer. Suddenly it feels hotter. He feels an elbow at his rib and he winces. An incoherent apology makes its way to his ears and he waves it off without another thought. He groans, wrapping an arm around his waist. Why is there suddenly a swarm of people? He was pretty sure that when he arrived, not even fifty were in the room. Very few for a celebration, but Kiyoomi likes it better that way. 

Nevertheless, he walked into the apartment knowing he will be attending a party. It didn’t smell of booze and tobacco earlier, unlike now. But then again, Kiyoomi wasn’t as befuddled as he currently is. Downing five shots of vodka weren’t included in his plan either. Kiyoomi only wanted to just attend this party, greet his friend, and then leave. He doesn’t want to cause a scene, not in a party where most of the invited guests know each other.

Many of these people know who Kiyoomi is. Either they met him during high school thanks to his sports background or they saw him once or twice as he scurried along the hallways in the university.

But one thing he's sure of is that all of them know the name Kiyoomi uttered.

 _Miya_ , he thinks again as his brain goes haywire.

It's his birthday celebration after all.

Kiyoomi can feel several eyes on him as he takes another step, gazes boring holes at the back of his skull. It's a bit uncomfortable. But he pays them no heed. He continues to walk, swaying left and right, feet dragging across the floor, and limbs flailing around the air. When did walking become such an arduous task? Minutes later, much to his joy, Kiyoomi finally reaches his destination. He stands proud in front of the almost empty couch. A familiar face tips up to meet his eyes. Kiyoomi grins in triumph, a dopey smile stretching across his mouth.

Miya parts his lips. “Uhm—”

Without missing a beat, Kiyoomi drops his body on Miya's lap, earning himself a sharp intake of breath from the other man. The weight of the curious glances comes back full force at the back of his head, but Kiyoomi clicks his tongue and continues to forcibly ignore all the watchful eyes around them. Instead, he grabs Miya by the shoulders and presses him against the couch.

“You know, I've been trying to keep this a secret for years but as you can see, I'm very drunk right now and you look so good tonight so I don't think I can hide this anymore,” Kiyoomi starts. He lets go of Miya's shoulders and brings his hands up to touch his face. His palm makes contact with Miya’s cheek. He squishes. It’s warm. He feels warm. It's like everything else disappears. Just him and Miya, all alone in the room. No one to bother them. No one to judge them.

For a few moments, nothing else truly mattered.

Just then, Kiyoomi's thoughts shatter immediately as he suddenly hears all the wolf whistles and sinister whispers coming from behind them. Ah, right. Once again, he is reminded that they have an audience. Normally, he would instantly shy away from the attention and leave for a place where he can be at peace and alone.

But right now, he doesn't care. He made up his mind. He's already made it out this far. Kiyoomi is going to confess. He's going to ask this guy out and hopefully date the fuck out of him.

Sakusa Kiyoomi takes a deep breath and with all the courage and alcohol flowing within him, says the words he's been locking at the deepest pits of his heart, storing them away from the world, and willing for it to pass only to be left in vain. With all the frustrations pent up throughout the three years of pining, gripping his lungs and ridding him of air, Kiyoomi finally confesses.

“Miya, I like you. Please go out with me.”

Then there was silence.

You see, Sakusa Kiyoomi is a model student, a good friend, a cooperative teammate, and a perfect son. All his life he made sure to follow the rules, to listen to his teachers, and obey his parents. He studied hard, got good grades and received several awards while he was in school. He believes he's a pretty decent athlete too. He admired his captain in the volleyball club, recognizing his skills as a setter and a leader. Kiyoomi wanted to make him proud so he trained religiously every day to prove himself worthy of the title of an ace. And with the best of his abilities, Kiyoomi helped his team reach the national stage several times until the time he graduated from high school.

Even in college, Kiyoomi is known by the professors as someone hardworking and intelligent. He’s responsible, disciplined, and reasonably obedient. Lots of students adore him and want to be around him. He easily became popular although it was very much against his will. Kiyoomi only wanted to study and play volleyball in the collegiate team, but with the undesired popularity comes the weekly invitation to hang out, eat meals, and drink together. His college teammates often try to get him to join them but he politely declines them all for… _personal_ reasons. And of course, if there were people who liked Kiyoomi, there were also others that send a glare and sneer his way, not liking the way he seems to be effortlessly excelling in all his classes while simultaneously carrying the title of the team MVP on his shoulders. Nevertheless, Kiyoomi took these as a sign that he is currently doing a good job in the university. 

So yes, Kiyoomi thinks he lived a pretty good life. Almost steady and with no bumps along the road. Personally, he thinks he lived a life not worthy of being damned and cursed with all the misfortunes in the world. He was a good person after all. And don't good people get rewarded or something?

But then why?

Why is Kiyoomi sobering up only to find himself sitting on the lap of a man who looks exactly like his crush of three years?

And why is this said man grinning at him from ear to ear?

“Ah, Omi-kun,” the man chuckles, deep and breathy. He takes off the hat that used to cover the bright color of his hair. He blinks rapidly, eyes focusing better at the sight in front of him. Kiyoomi gulps. It's no longer the color of piss, just the perfect light blond, unlike back in high school. He runs his fingers through the blond locks. _Dyed blond_ , _not brown._ “I had no idea you liked me back.”

Suddenly Kiyoomi is fully sober again. His brain alert and thoughts running a thousand miles per second. His body stiff as a board and face drained of color. Several things went through in his mind in a matter of seconds. One, he's sitting on Miya Atsumu's lap. Two, he is touching his face. Three, there are people still staring at them. And four—

Huh?

What?

 _Back_?

Liked me _back_?

Did Miya fucking Atsumu just imply that he liked Kiyoomi?

“What?” Kiyoomi's jaw drops. He almost topples over in shock but a hand finds its way to Kiyoomi's hips, steadying him and keeping him from falling. It's warm, just like the rest of him, and somehow it fits there perfectly. Like two puzzle pieces finally clicking together. Kiyoomi hears the buzz in his head and he drops his hands from Atsumu's face, clasping them together and putting it close to his chest.

Atsumu, realizing what Kiyoomi's actions meant, lets go of his waist and lets his own hands fall back to his sides. Kiyoomi stares at him with wide, questioning eyes. Atsumu flashes him a lazy grin and Kiyoomi swears all the alcohol in his blood is making him see things when he notices the pink tinge on the setter's cheeks. Maybe it's just the lights, or maybe it's from the alcohol Atsumu probably drank. Maybe there's nothing and Kiyoomi should pretend he didn't see anything at all. Because there is no way he's embarrassed. Miya Atsumu _cannot_ be feeling shy after receiving a confession from Kiyoomi.

“You know what, Omi-kun? If I'm being honest, I liked you since our training camp in high school,” he admits, the smile not tiring out of his lips. He looks at Kiyoomi, eyes full of adoration. “I wanted to confess years ago. I was gonna tell you during our last spring nationals but you left before I could talk to you.”

He realizes it right then and there. The sincerity lacing his tone. The genuine smile replacing the usual cocky grin. The soft voice instead of the thick scream. It all comes crashing down and Kiyoomi wants to throw up.

Miya Atsumu likes him.

Atsumu truly likes him but Kiyoomi does _not._

Because Kiyoomi likes Miya _Osamu_ —the man attending the same university as Kiyoomi and has helped him a number of times. The man who he managed to befriend in the first few months of college. The man who would remind him to eat and bring him his favorite food when he's stressed out from classes. The man who keeps extra sanitizers and wipes in his bag in case Kiyoomi forgets to bring his own or runs out. 

The man standing right behind them, brows creasing and eyes narrowing—

He likes Osamu and finally had the courage to tell him after three years of pining.

Kiyoomi likes Osamu but he confessed to the wrong twin.

* * *

Sakusa Kiyoomi may be smart but he is also very _very_ stupid.

Aside from the fact that he had somehow professed his love to the wrong person and failed to notice Osamu standing literally a feet away from Atsumu, Sakusa Kiyoomi has managed to make things worse.

How?

Through a simple exchange of Atsumu's nervous question (“So, are we together now?”) and Kiyoomi's panicked answer (“Uh, yeah. Sure.”)

Now, a day and a couple of text messages later, Kiyoomi finds himself sitting alone in a coffee shop booth, body wrapped in his college varsity jacket and his favorite gray sweatpants, half of his face covered with a black mask like the usual.

He taps his shoe impatiently on the floor, eyes glued on the store entrance as he waits for the chimes to sound and the glass doors to slide open to reveal a familiar face striding in. He thinks about how dumb he must have looked last night—imagine walking up to someone you haven't talked to in years only to sit on their lap and ramble about how much you like them, then mentally curse yourself after finding out that you fucked up in the biggest way possible. He grabs his own hair and pulls in frustration. God, Kiyoomi is never drinking again.

Fortunately for Kiyoomi's hair, Atsumu arrives a few minutes later. He walks into the coffee shop oozing with confidence, head held high and hands in his pocket. He walks with heavy steps like he owns the place and he knows it. Contrary to what Kiyoomi was initially expecting, Atsumu is dressed rather comfortably. No expensive or branded clothes in sight. Just plain pants, a hoodie, and a cap that hides his hair.

A cap. _Again_. Kiyoomi's eye twitches as the memory from the other night haunt him tenfold.

“Hey Omi-kun, did ya wait long?” Atsumu asks, his thick accent slipping out. There's a faint blush on his cheeks that Kiyoomi chooses to ignore. Atsumu smiles apologetically, pulling a chair across Kiyoomi to take a seat. “Sorry I got stuck for a bit during training. Coach was in a pissy mood today.”

“It's fine,” _It's not_. “I didn't wait long,” _Lies. Kiyoomi has been waiting for more than half an hour._

“Still, I never should have made you wait.”

“It's really fine, Miya. It's not a big deal,” Kiyoomi insists, tugging down his mask to rest under his chin. He offers him a small smile, hoping his gesture will be enough to convince Atsumu that yes, even if he was a bit late, Kiyoomi doesn't mind. If anything, he actually needs more time to get himself together. So it wasn't really an issue that Atsumu was a few minutes late.

“It kinda is for me,” Atsumu sighs and then pouts. A pout. Kiyoomi blinks. What the fuck. “It's our first date. I wanted to leave a good impression.”

A date, Kiyoomi almost shuts off at the word. A first date that he didn't wish for. A first date that he didn't see coming.

For months, everytime he shamelessly daydreams of a date, he thinks of the same face, sitting in front of him and most probably feeding him desserts. But today, the same face of his dreams is right across him. Just within his reach. If he extends his arm out and tries hard enough, he can even touch him. It's here. A dream come true, some may say. 

Yet it's not with the person Kiyoomi wants.

“Well, uhm,” Kiyoomi licks his lips and finds himself at loss for words. What's happening again? What are they talking about? Why won't Atsumu stop pouting? Does Osamu look as adorable when he pouts? He shakes the last thought away. “You can always do better next time?”

“Hm, yer right, Omi-omi,” Kiyoomi's eye twitches for the second time at the mention of the nickname, but he forces another smile to hide his displease. Atsumu grins at him, bright and blinding. “After all, we can go on as many dates as we like. I mean, we are dating now, aren't we?”

Once again, Kiyoomi is reminded of how stupid he is. Miya Atsumu is perhaps a living, breathing, proof of that.

“Yeah,” he croaks out, swallowing past the forming lump in his throat. “We are.”

Kiyoomi doesn't even have a proper experience when it comes to relationships. He never dated before. He's had crushes yes, but no one ever went further than that. Not in high school. He thought it was too early, that he was too young to date. He didn't date in college either. Not because he was too busy with studying and or playing volleyball. Kiyoomi just didn't want to. Because why would he go out with other people when all he wanted was that one person? One person that he thought was within his reach all this time.

And now he's on a date with that person's twin.

“Heh,” Atsumu lets out a satisfied huff and looks him directly into his eyes. Kiyoomi feels chills running through his spine, prickling him deep and sharp. The blond cockshis head and with another grin, he asks, “So what should we do for our first date then?”

Much to Kiyoomi's displeasure and surprise, the two of them ended up spending the whole day together.

Normally, Kiyoomi wouldn't be caught dead outside for longer than necessary. But today is their _first date_ as a couple, according to Atsumu, and since Kiyoomi was the one who confessed and asked the other out, he can't bring himself to complain. Either way, it's a free day and even though Kiyoomi would rather stay at home and study for next week's classes, it's Atsumu's last day in Tokyo before he leaves for Osaka tomorrow morning. He owes this day to him at least.

The plan is to go on a small tour around Tokyo. Kiyoomi is going to walk around the city and show Atsumu the place where he grew up in, that's what they agreed on. But Kiyoomi is starting to regret it now. The blaring sun above them burns his skin like fire and the crowd is getting denser and denser by the minute. Someone behind him coughs and Kiyoomi wants to bolt right that instant. He naively thought there would be less people outside since it was a weekday. Adults should be at work and most students should be at school on a Monday right? But boy was he wrong. All Kiyoomi wants to do now is to curl into himself and hide away from the crowd.

“Hey Omi-omi,” Atsumu suddenly stops in his tracks. He was walking in front of Kiyoomi, humming with a skip in his every step. He seems happy so any plans of ditching him to go home and hide leaves a wretched feeling in Kiyoomi's gut, making him feel guilty.

“Yes?” he breathes out, trying his best to not look like he's dying.

“Do you wanna go home now?”

Kiyoomi halts. He blinks at Atsumu, a confused frown forming underneath his mask. “What?”

“You kinda look uncomfortable with being around this many people,” Atsumu says. “I don't wanna make you stay out longer than you can handle.”

 _Oh_ , Kiyoomi makes a realization. Miya Atsumu is… _surprisingly_ very considerate.

“But you leave Tokyo tomorrow,” Kiyoomi replies as if that was enough for an answer. It wasn't. Atsumu shakes his head.

“It's fine. I already had the best birthday in Tokyo, and what's even better is that I got to spend a few hours on a date with the Sakusa Kiyoomi. That's already a dream come true,” Atsumu touches his chest and lets out an exaggerated dreamy sigh. “Besides, you already gave me your number. I can just text you if I want to talk to you.”

It catches Kiyoomi off guard, how shockingly observant Atsumu is to notice that Kiyoomi is starting to feel uncomfortable. He also didn't expect Atsumu to be considerate enough to send his _boyfriend_ home despite only being together for roughly around two hours. If Kiyoomi has been pining for someone since high school, he would probably go all out and spend an entire day with them on the first date. He's simply not going to let the chance go to waste. But Atsumu? He's different, Kiyoomi thinks. Somehow, that makes him feel even worse. How could he even think of ditching someone as nice as Atsumu?

And a Kiyoomi who feels bad was never one to make the best decisions.

“I do want to go home,” he starts, and Atsumu smiles kindly at him in understanding.

“Okay, then I'll call you a cab and—”

“But you can come home with me if you like,” Kiyoomi suddenly cuts him off, stupid mouth running faster than his brain. “We can continue the date at my apartment.” ****

Atsumu stiffens in shock, not expecting the invitation. His surprise is written all over his face, blown eyes, mouth agape, and brows shooting up to his forehead. To be fair, Kiyoomi didn't see this coming either.

“Me? Come home with you?” Atsumu repeats in disbelief.

Kiyoomi nods. “Yes. We can just watch a movie in my living room and cook dinner if you want to stay until then.”

“W-wait, Omi” The blond suddenly flails in panic. “Are you sure? You're not just saying this out of some kind of obligation, are you?”

_No. He's not sure and yes, he's probably just feeling obligated._

“Yes, I'm sure,” is what Kiyoomi says instead.

“You'd let me in your apartment?” Atsumu asks, each word quietly and carefully leaving his lips like he's afraid saying it loud will end his dream.

“Yes? I did invite you after all.”

Atsumu suddenly takes a step back. Kiyoomi lifts a brow as he looks at him in confusion. The setter huffs out a breath and puts a hand on his hips as he gently pats the side of his chest where his heart lies. Kiyoomi cocks his head and watches him silently.

“Okay. Okay, let me just… okay wait… might need a moment to process this… okay, okay wow.”

“Miya?” Kiyoomi calls, an amused smile stretching his lips. “Are you done now?”

It was as if his voice snapped Atsumu out of his stupor. The blond's expression shifts and he faces Kiyoomi with a soft smile.

 _Oh_ , Kiyoomi blinks, _that looks better on him than the cocky smirk he shows on the court_.

“Yeah. Yeah, let's go to your apartment,” decides Atsumu.

Kiyoomi nods his head and pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Alright then. I'll book a cab now.”

As he taps the keys on his screen, Kiyoomi wonders if aside from studying and volleyball, he also has a talent for making wrong decisions. Because if yes, then just the past few days alone is enough for proof.

When he confirms the booking, Kiyoomi raises his head and looks at the man standing next to him. Atsumu looks restless. A bit nervous and also a bit excited. Kiyoomi takes a deep breath and exhales slowly.

He's just bringing Atsumu in his apartment. It's not a big deal. He's brought other people into his home before. Motoya comes over often. Even Osamu visits him sometimes.

It's just Miya Atsumu. The guy he used to play volleyball with in high school. Miya Atsumu, who is his best friend's older twin brother. Miya Atsumu, who is the starting setter of Osaka's MSBY Black Jackals.

Miya Atsumu who also happens to be his boyfriend.

* * *

  
  


Miya Atsumu is an enigma, Kiyoomi soon realizes.

On the court, Kiyoomi remembers the terror the name _Miya_ holds. A scary duo. A genius setter and a strong opposite hitter. Some teams shudder at the very sound of their name. They were an amazing and worthy opponent. Even Kiyoomi thought the same at one point in his life.

But befriending Miya Osamu, the strong opposite hitter from Inarizaki High, made Kiyoomi realize that their intimidating image fails to precede them once they're off court. Osamu who loves to cook in his free time. Osamu who loves to watch eating ASMR before going to bed. Osamu who creates eccentric recipes in the middle of the night. Osamu who says the weirdest food metaphors whenever he wants to bother Kiyoomi.

Miya Atsumu, like his twin, is very different when he's not touching the ball. With the way Atsumu screams, shouts, and stomps his feet during all the matches Kiyoomi has seen him play, he fully expected Atsumu to be loud and bossy at all times. He thought Atsumu would be someone who would demand attention wherever he goes and then throw tantrums when things don't go his way. He thought Atsumu would disrupt peace and wreak havoc like a second nature.

So on the ride back to his apartment, Kiyoomi held his breath, waiting for Atsumu to try and start talking to him, to ask him questions and make small talk. He grips his hands tightly on his lap, pupils shaky and lips abused by his teeth. He waits as the cab passes through a very familiar route, eyes darting back and forth between Atsumu and the window beside him. Kiyoomi waits. And waits. But the only thing he hears from Atsumu on the entire way home is “Are you really sure about this, Omi-kun?” like he's scared. Worried. For what? Kiyoomi doesn't know.

Kiyoomi merely tells him “Yes, Miya. We're already in the cab. I'm sure,” and Atsumu nods without another word before he turns to his side and leans against the glass window. 

The rest of the ride was spent in total silence after that.

Now as he and Miya Atsumu sit on opposite ends of the couch, Frozen playing on Kiyoomi's television screen because _how have you not seen this yet, Omi-omi?_ Sakusa Kiyoomi watches him try to subtly wipe a tear away when the snowman starts to melt. He listens to him mutter the lyrics of all the songs under his breath. He sees him smile when the true love in question ends up being about a love between siblings.

The movie ends and Kiyoomi asks Atsumu if he wants to stay for dinner. As soon as the question leaves his lips, Kiyoomi remembers his nearly empty fridge and cabinets. He doesn't have any food at home. _Good going, Kiyoomi_ , he curses himself. He's already dreading the _yes_ at the tip of Atsumu's tongue, wondering how he can get his way through this new fuck up, but to his surprise, the setter politely refuses.

He wishes Kiyoomi a good night and promises to text him when he gets home. He leaves Kiyoomi's apartment with a wave and a smile, and with a soft click, shuts the door close.

That night, Kiyoomi goes to bed feeling a mix of emotions. The day had been excruciatingly long. From the coffee shop, to the Tokyo crowd, and then to the comfort of his living room. Kiyoomi remembers his emotions vividly. The dread while he waits for Atsumu. The fear when he sees the crowd. The anxiety as he prepares himself for a small talk that never came. The curiosity as he observes Atsumu during the movie. And the weird sense of satisfaction when the day finally comes to an end.

Kiyoomi heaves out a deep sigh and closes his eyes.

 _It's just the first date,_ he thinks to himself. There are most likely more to come. More days to spend with Atsumu. More days to pretend like a good boyfriend. More days to act like lying so shamelessly doesn't kill him slowly inside.

Dread for tomorrow doesn't leave Kiyoomi's mind, but for now, he sleeps.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why is Osamu acting like nothing happened?

Motoya hears about a week later.

For someone who plays volleyball professionally, Kiyoomi thinks his cousin seems to have all the free time in the world. It's almost a routine—at least once every month, Motoya knocks on Kiyoomi's apartment door and barges inside like he owns the place, bringing with him nothing more than a greeting and a few cans of beer.

Today is no different.

It's late at night. Empty cans of beer and packets of chips are scattered over the table. Kiyoomi eyes it with disgust, his hands itching to clean everything and disinfect his living room. But he knows Motoya will only end up making another mess if he cleans it up right now. A drunk Motoya is not on the top of Kiyoomi's list of favorite people. So he holds his tongue and clenches his fist. _Later_ , he tells himself. _You can clean this mess later_.

Motoya's drunken mess aside, Kiyoomi thought the night was going to be like the usual. Just his cousin blabbing about his teammates and their matches, or about how they can't seem to defeat the Adlers even though he already practiced hard enough to receive Wakatoshi's spikes.

But Kiyoomi was wrong. So, so wrong. Because there is one thing he failed to consider.

And that is Suna Rintaro and his unexpectedly big mouth.

“Hey, Kiyo.”

Kiyoomi is in the middle of distracting himself with the games on his phone when he hears his cousin's voice calling out for him from the other side of the living room. He hums in response. “Hm, what?”

“You know Suna, right?”

It's like a bucket full of icy water is being poured down on Kiyoomi. He's stiff as a block of ice, face paler and mouth slightly ajar as he faces his cousin. Flashbacks come flooding his head. A familiar face, dark hair, and green eyes, watching him confess to Atsumu. A knowing glint on his expression fading away as soon as it appeared, then turning to Osamu as if nothing happened.

Suna Rintaro was a witness to Kiyoomi's miserable fate and he also happens to be a good friend of Motoya.

Kiyoomi clears his throat. He taps on his screen with a shaky finger. He asks, “What about Suna?”

“He went to Inarizaki High School, did you know that?” Motoya's tone remains passive and somehow, this scares Kiyoomi even more.

Did he know that? Kiyoomi frowns. Of course, he did. Itachiyama played against them a number of times in high school and he would never forget how much of a pain Suna was when on the other side of the court. But Kiyoomi bites his tongue and continues to act indifferent, still pretending to be immersed in whatever he's doing on his phone.

“Did he now?”

“Yeah. But you know what else?”

“What?”

“He's really close with the Miyas,” says Motoya, and this time, when Kiyoomi finally looks up from his phone, he sees his cousin's lips stretching into a cheshire cat-like grin. He shudders. “And he told me something very interesting that happened during the twins' birthday party a little over a week ago.”

_It's over for Kiyoomi._

He shoots up from his seat, ready to leave before it gets worse, but Motoya must have been expecting his reaction. He quickly tugs Kiyoomi's shirt and forcibly pulls him back down. “No way you're leaving without telling me everything, young man.”

“Why do you still need me to tell you anything?” Kiyoomi clicks his tongue and groans, slapping Motoya's hand off his shirt. “I'm pretty sure you already know what happened based on that smug expression on your face?”

“I need you to confirm things for me before I fully believe it.”

“What things?” Kiyoomi scoffs, unimpressed. “That inebriated Kiyoomi was stupid enough to differentiate between his crush of three years and his twin? Well, yes. That happened.”

“Oh my god, when Suna said you confessed to Atsumu I thought he was the one who got them mixed up.”

“He's been with them every day since high school,” Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. “I'd like to think he can pinpoint who is who blindfolded.”

“Unlike you.”

A dreary sigh. “Yeah. Unlike me.”

Kiyoomi begins to wallow in his own pity party, thinking about what could have happened if he didn't confuse the twins. And what if he immediately told Atsumu the truth? That he was mistaken and he had no feelings for him. What would happen then? How different would things be?

And then suddenly, Motoya bursts into laughter, loud cackles filling the entirety of Kiyoomi's quiet apartment and ringing within the four walls of his living room.

“I can't believe you,” Motoya says in between peals of unbridled laughter, clearly enjoying the visible suffering on his cousin's face. “Sakusa Kiyoomi? Getting into this kind of mess with no one but himself to blame? Wow, never would have thought this day would come. I gotta thank Atsumu-san for this.”

“Stop laughing, this isn't funny,” Kiyoomi scowls, irritation growing with every giggle his cousin lets out. “I was too embarrassed to take back my confession and tell him I actually like his twin, not him. I said yes when he asked if we're dating because I was too dumbstruck to watch my mouth. Now I'm here. Nothing funny about this, Toya.”

“Oh that's where you're mistaken, my dear cousin,” Motoya cackles, not trying to hide his amusement over Kiyoomi's dilemma. He gestures wildly around him. “ _Everything_ about this is funny.”

Grabbing a pillow next to him, Kiyoomi wordlessly flings it over to Motoya with a huff. “Ugh. You are literally no help. Fuck off back to Shizuoka and leave me alone.”

“No can do. I have the week off and I'm gonna spend it all in Tokyo,” Motoya grins, successfully avoiding the flying pillow thrown by his cousin. He lies down the couch sideways, his elbow digging the cotton as he rests his cheek on his palm. “Besides I need to hear more about your new boyfriend.”

“My new _boyfriend_ is back in Osaka with his team unlike you.”

“So you agree?” his cousin smiles knowingly, voice dropping in a false pretense. “Atsumu _is_ your boyfriend?”

“What else should I be calling him then?” Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, too tired to hold a conversation with Motoya. “I'm way too late to take back what I said. I don't have a choice now.”

“Aw Kiyo, you're being too prickly. Don't roll your eyes at me. What's the reason behind this bad mood? Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed? Do you miss your boyfriend already?” Motoya asks, grinning from ear to ear. He rolls over the couch and cups his face with both his hands. He starts making ridiculous kissy faces in front of Kiyoomi and says, “Don't worry, if you ever wanna see him again, you can always just look at Osamu and think that it's him.”

Kiyoomi turns to his cousin, fixing him with an icy glare. He warns. “Motoya, shut up or else.”

“If you want, you can just make Osamu wear a cap like what Atsumu did, and then you will have an excuse to act all lovey-dovey with your longtime college crush—”

A loud slap of skin against skin reverberates in the room and Motoya is reminded just how powerful his cousin's spikes are. The undeniable sting on his arm further proves that Sakusa Kiyoomi wasn't the top ace in high school and the collegiate MVP for nothing.

* * *

**Miya Atsumu:** OMI OMI

 **Miya Atsumu:** HI

 **Miya Atsumu:** HELLO

 **Miya Atsumu:** are you busy?

 **Omi-kun:** Hello to you too, Miya.

 **Omi-kun:** Yes, I have an exam tomorrow.

 **Omi-kun:** I'm studying right now.

 **Miya Atsumu:** oh shit sorry

 **Miya Atsumu:** i won't be bothering you then

 **Miya Atsumu:** good luck with your exams!

 **Omi-kun:** Thank you.

* * *

By some kind of good fortune, Kiyoomi's relationship with Osamu doesn't change for the most part.

If there was a reason why Kiyoomi endured the three years of staying silent and not confessing, that would be the fear of losing Osamu. Because before anything else, Osamu was his friend. And by confessing, Kiyoomi was afraid that somehow, their friendship will take a huge blow no matter what happens. Going back to normal and pretending like nothing happened after a love confession would be troublesome. He would rather stay by Osamu's side as a friend than lose him completely after a bitter rejection. Granted that he's not entirely sure if he would be rejected, he just truly believed it was better safe than sorry. 

However, despite Kiyoomi's initial fears, even after he had mistakenly confessed to Atsumu and started _dating_ him, things between him and Osamu were just fine.

 _Too_ fine.

It turns out Kiyoomi didn't have to worry about their friendship being ruined after all.

Osamu is still pretty much the same. They still hang out during breaks. He still attends Kiyoomi's collegiate matches whenever he has the time. He still cooks him food and takes care of him like he used to. _Exactly_ like he used to. A part of Kiyoomi feels elated that he still gets to experience this from Osamu, that he could still pretend like nothing really changed. But another part of him, the more rational and reasonable part, is confused.

Why is Osamu acting like nothing happened?

Kiyoomi knows that Osamu _knows_. He was there during the confession. He saw them. Heard them. It was right after Kiyoomi sobered up and realized that he confessed to the wrong twin that he looked around the room for the real Osamu. It didn't take him long. Kiyoomi easily spotted him, dark brown hair out for the world to see. _God, if only he had noticed him earlier_. But in that instant, Kiyoomi saw Osamu looking at them after the fiasco, eyes squinted into slits as he stared at them, skeptical and curious, before turning his back to talk with Suna.

So why?

Why did he never say anything for weeks after Kiyoomi and Atsumu started dating? Not a word or a threat that if he hurts Atsumu then Kiyoomi should forget about seeing the sun the next day. Not even a congratulations nor a feigned pity for dating his brother.

Kiyoomi expected something—anything. But why is Osamu keeping mum? Why did he sashay through the days as if the last two weeks didn't happen?

And Kiyoomi, the ever so curious Kiyoomi, can't keep his mouth shut and nerves at bay. With thousands of thoughts swimming inside his head, Kiyoomi finally brings it up to Osamu one day.

It happens during one of their study sessions—Osamu finishing his finance homework while Kiyoomi diligently works on his thick binder of case studies. Feeling strained after long hours of work, Kiyoomi shuts his textbooks and takes off his reading glasses. He leans back against the chair, resting his spine from hours of reading. He stretches his arms and a few of his joints pop. He pinches the bridge of his nose and groans as the ache of his body finally catches up to him.

Across him, Osamu unconsciously bites at the end of his pen, brows drawn together in concentration. A smile unknowingly paints Kiyoomi's lips. He likes to look at him like this. He looks good. Serious. Professional. Almost everything that Kiyoomi has never seen in his own _boyfriend_ before despite knowing both of them practically since high school.

Until now, Kiyoomi can never forget the first time he met the infamous Miya Twins. At fifteen, they were already the topic of several conversations, may it be hushed whispers along the corridors or proud declarations outside the gym. A name like that would normally pique anyone's interest, wanting to know more. However, in Kiyoomi's case, even after all the high praises, he never really paid the Miyas any more attention than he thought they deserved. And despite his particular lack of interest, he was still aware that the two are good athletes—good enough for Kiyoomi's team captain to call him aside and tell him to watch out. Kiyoomi remembers blinking in confusion because he's _Sakusa Kiyoomi_. He doesn't watch out for people when he's on the court. If anything, people watch out for _him_.

But then one of them, the much louder one, Atsumu, he later finds out, receives one of Kiyoomi's strongest spikes during the match. It ignites something inside him that he couldn't quite understand. A fluke. Maybe that's all it was, he tries to convince himself. It would have worked if not for the fact that it happened again. The second time was done by the other twin, Osamu. The third one by Atsumu, and then again. Then again.

Kiyoomi left the match with cheers behind him as they won the game, the score of 32-30 flashing on the scoreboard at the center of the court. He should be satisfied and feeling overjoyed after a win, and he is—but there's also an unsettling new feeling at the pit of his stomach. It's confusing as it slowly crawls its way up, gripping Kiyoomi tightly by the throat.

He looked back and spotted the twins bickering as they made their way to their cheering squad. Maybe facing them again will finally satiate the unexplainable hunger inside Kiyoomi. Maybe he will finally be content if that happens.

He turned back to his team, a smile dangling at the corner of his lips. He can't wait to see them again next year and make the twins eat dust for the second time.

Then came the national youth training camp and Kiyoomi was welcomed by a grinning Miya as soon as he stepped inside the gym. Kiyoomi took his time to watch him closely, trying to decipher which twin he was. But then this Miya approached the setter from Karasuno and glowered. _Ah so it's Atsumu_ , Kiyoomi realized.

A funny feeling tickled in his stomach as he stared. It was weird for him to see a Miya by himself, but it's even weirder to see that shockingly bright blond on Atsumu's head instead of the natural brown Kiyoomi had seen last year. Kiyoomi thought Atsumu looks dumb in piss blond. He turned his back, tugging Motoya towards their room. He walked and walked, and wondered if Osamu had dyed his hair too.

Fast forward to Spring Nationals of that year and Kiyoomi watched them lose in their first match. They never make it past the top sixteen. Seeing this annoyed Kiyoomi. A wave of disappointment surged inside him but he didn't know why. It was a good game. Inarizaki obviously did the best they could. So why did Kiyoomi feel angry? Was it because he won't be able to get back at the twins this year? Or maybe because he was actually rooting for Inarizaki to win against Karasuno?

Kiyoomi shook the thoughts away. He shouldn't waste time thinking about things like this anyway. Especially not on the Miyas who lost as soon as they stepped inside the court. There are things more important than them.

The following year, in Kiyoomi's final year of high school and his last Spring Nationals, he sees the twins standing by the vending machine, talking animatedly between themselves. Osamu was quietly sipping on his drink but he nodded vigorously in response to Atsumu's big, enthusiastic gestures. The setter looked flushed, eyes bright and lips stretched into a wide grin. He looked happy.

Turning his eyes away, Kiyoomi passed by and ignored them for the rest of the competition. _He wouldn't waste time on a Miya ever again_ , he told himself.

Fast forward to the present and he never thought he would meet one of them again in the university. Much more end up liking one and then dating the other.

Kiyoomi drops his head on his table. If his younger self could see him now, he would definitely look at him with a mix of utter disappointment and disgust in his eyes. Wouldn't waste his time on a Miya? Yeah right. Turns out one Miya isn't enough. Twins always come in packages after all. Kiyoomi lifts his head and drops it back down, hitting the table for the second time. It stings and he's sure his forehead will have a bright red mark later. But it's fine. Kiyoomi deserves it anyway.

However, in his defense, finding a familiar face amidst the sea of strangers gave Kiyoomi a sense of comfort. If he's being honest, Kiyoomi still can't believe he ended up befriending one of the Miyas while in college. He was never really close with Osamu when they first met. Kiyoomi was never good at making friends and keeping relationships but it was as if Osamu had felt the same way—the same need to have something familiar around him, something to hold on to when Kiyoomi forgets why he's here, because after accidentally bumping into each other, Osamu started hanging more and more around Kiyoomi—offering to join him for lunch, inviting him out for drinks, and even accompanying him to study despite having completely different majors.

Soon enough, to no one's surprise, Osamu became much more than a familiar face. He became a friend. A best friend, to be exact. Kiyoomi's safe space and comfort. For years, he thought Osamu thought of him the same way. Kiyoomi believed he was an important friend. But why has Osamu never said a word about what happened at their birthday party? Was the fact that his best friend ended up dating his brother not enough to warrant a reaction from him?

Kiyoomi, finally fed up from his own thoughts, asks him this and Osamu looks up from his papers, blinking at him in both shock and confusion, tilting his head to the side with an almost inaudible “What?”

“I said, why are you acting like nothing happened?” Kiyoomi repeats, jaw tight. “You know the thing with your brother and me, right?”

“Yeah. Why?” Osamu drawls out his words and nods, still confused but showing nothing more.

Kiyoomi always knew Osamu was not easy to read. But lately, his expressions undoubtedly take the cake. He sighs and shrugs, not knowing what to say nor ask anymore. “I don't know. I guess I'm just confused. You're acting like nothing changed and it just threw me off guard I guess.”

Osamu's eyes widen, features twisting for a split second, and then he huffs, pillowing his chin on his palm. He smirks, almost mysterious. “Oh trust me, Kiyoomi. Nothing did.”

“What?” Kiyoomi squints.

With a shake of his head, Osamu quirks a brow at his friend and points at the closed textbook in front of Kiyoomi. “I said you should stop worrying about unimportant things and focus on your notes. You have a test in a few hours, Kiyoomi. Stop banging your head on the table, you're killing your brain cells.”

Kiyoomi pouts, bottom lip jutted out like a child about to throw a tantrum. Alright then. If Osamu wants to avoid the topic then Kiyoomi can't force him to talk. He makes a face and sighs, opening his textbook and turning his attention back to his notes. Osamu does the same across him.

And just like that, the two of them fall back into a comfortable silence, all their focus directed at their own thing, completely unbothered by the surroundings, and slowly forgetting what the earlier conversation entails.

* * *

**Miya Atsumu:** OMI OMI HEEEEEEY

 **Omi-kun:** Hello Miya

 **Miya Atsumu** : wait, are you busy right now?

 **Omi-kun:** I'm done with all my exams so not really, no.

 **Omi-kun** : Why?

 **Omi-kun** : Did something happen?

 **Miya Atsumu** : yes but it's nothing bad!!!

 **Omi-kun** : What is it?

 **Miya Atsumu:** i'll be seeing you again soon

 **Miya Atsumu:** the jackals will be coming to tokyo in two weeks!!!

* * *

Two weeks later and Atsumu, just like what he had told Kiyoomi, returns to Tokyo for a week-long training with his entire team. It's not like he was dreading his _boyfriend_ 's arrival, but the knowledge that Kiyoomi has to act like he's head over heels for the wrong Miya for seven long days, makes his stomach twist and turn.

Atsumu isn't that bad, he knows that. He might have been a bit of a jerk in high school but growing up did him good. Now Kiyoomi can even call him nice. Sweet too, if he wants to be. But at the end of the day, Kiyoomi still likes Osamu and he hates lying like this. Even if he doesn't like Atsumu the same way, he still thinks he doesn't deserve to be deceived. No one does, really. Kiyoomi is so bad at lying that he knows he only managed to last for so long because Atsumu was living miles away in Osaka. He also doesn't try to bother Kiyoomi when he thinks he's busy so their contact was kept at minimum for the last few weeks.

Fortunately for him, Atsumu was very considerate and respectful of Kiyoomi's private time. He never pushes Kiyoomi to do things he doesn't want to do nor things he has no time for. He still texts Kiyoomi frequently, checking up on him and asking how he's doing. Kiyoomi tries to give him a curt reply every time and Atsumu seems to be satisfied with that if the barrage of emojis is enough of an indication.

Thinking about every little thing Atsumu does makes him drown in guilt even more. He knows he's doing something real shitty. He knows lying to someone like this will definitely backfire in some way when the time comes. But what choice does he have? Admit the truth and break up with Atsumu? Kiyoomi shudders at the thought. Hurting Atsumu in any way would mean Osamu will never let him see the light of the day.

He sighs to himself, wrapping his body with a blanket and rolling on his bed. Maybe keeping up with this facade is the best choice. Atsumu is happy. Osamu is too because he gets to see his brother happy. It's only Kiyoomi who is in distress. But one suffering is better than two, right? Utilitarianism and all that bullshit.

He twists and turns, wondering how he can last a week when he was already close to losing his mind on their first date. If Atsumu is in Tokyo, there's no way he's not going to ask Kiyoomi to meet. It's understandable. And as a boyfriend, he should be excited too.

But all Kiyoomi feels is dread. 

Someone's going to find out the truth if he doesn't get his shit together.

Atsumu, completely clueless about the current turmoil of his boyfriend, decides to facetime Kiyoomi as soon as he finishes unpacking his things in the hotel room, eyes wide and cheeks tinted pink.

“Omi-kun! It's been a while,” he greets through the phone screen. He looks tired but there's a smile on his face. He's wearing his training gear too, Kiyoomi notices. “It's only been a month since I was last in Tokyo but it felt like years.”

A month? Already? Kiyoomi didn't even notice. He's been _dating_ Atsumu for a month. God, it's so surreal—and not in a good way. Nevertheless, he nods and mirrors the smiling Atsumu. “It has been a long time. Both of us were also quite busy these days to have the time to chat. Will you be visiting Osamu while you're here?”

Kiyoomi stills. _Fuck_. Trust him to always have Osamu in his mind twenty four seven. He wants to strangle himself. At this rate, he's going to end up slipping up and revealing himself before Atsumu can even find out on his own. Luckily for him, if there is anyone who thinks about Osamu as frequently as Kiyoomi, then it would be Atsumu. His boyfriend didn't seem to find anything strange with his question, a switch suddenly flicking on as soon as he heard his twin's name.

“Samu? Yeah. Of course! I called him weeks ago and we agreed to meet on my free day so he can take me to some popular and fun spots in the city,” Atsumu's eyes light up at and somehow Kiyoomi can't help but find it endearing. In his defense, who wouldn't brighten at the thought of spending a day Osamu? No one really. Atsumu clears his throats and then awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. “I was actually going to ask you about it too. If you're free the day after tomorrow, I would very much love it if you can join us.” 

“Huh?” Kiyoomi stares blankly at his screen, then blinks. He points to himself. “Me?”

“Yeah, of course,” Atsumu nods and Kiyoomi sees a hopeful look on his face. His eyes suddenly seem to be sparkling. “So how about it? Wanna' join the infamous Miya twins on a Tokyo stroll?”

Kiyoomi purses his lips. He looks at his screen again and almost melts. He doesn't know if it was because of Atsumu or because of the face. _That_ familiar face, with the puppy eyes and pink pouty lips. Imagine if that was Osamu asking him to go. Kiyoomi's chest tightens. How could he ever say no?

And so two days later, Sakusa i-hate-crowded-places Kiyoomi finds himself standing outside an aquarium, buried under several layers of clothing and face hidden under his mask to no one's surprise at all. Atsumu is dressed in a similar manner which Kiyoomi found weird at first. A cap, dark sunglasses, and a face mask. _I'm a famous athlete_ , _Omi!_ he said when Kiyoomi threw him a questioning glance. He didn't have it in him to argue so he sighs in defeat and follows his boyfriend quietly.

Osamu is already waiting for them near the ticket booth, lounging against a post and thumbs tapping away on his phone when Atsumu and Kiyoomi arrive. Atsumu calls out to him and Osamu immediately spots them, waving a hand in their direction.

Atsumu pulls the mask to his chin and makes a face at his twin. He looks around, “An aquarium? Of all the places in Tokyo and you choose this?” 

“Stop complaining, scrub. Be grateful I didn't take you somewhere tackier.”

“Is this not tacky enough?” Atsumu scowls. “Why are we in an aquarium, Samu?”

“I don't know,” Osamu shrugs in response, tapping on his phone a few times and then shoving his screen to his brother's face. “I googled and several people said this is a perfect dating spot.”

Atsumu leans forward to take a closer look. He squints at his twin's phone and then after a few seconds, pulls back with his features twisting into confusion. “Huh? Dating spot? Why would you wanna third-wheel so badly like that?”

“You're a dumbass, Tsumu,” Osamu rolls his eyes at his twin and quips, “And who even said anything about me third-wheeling?” 

“Well, I'm not leaving Omi for you!”

“Ew, gross,” Osamu gags, disgust written all over him. He smacks his twin square on the face and pushes him away. “If anything, I'll be taking Kiyoomi. Not you.”

Atsumu yells in protest and says something that remotely sounded like an insult. Kiyoomi can't seem to understand what he's saying. He can't hear anyone, really. The only thing buzzing in his ears is the sound of his heart thrumming loudly inside his chest.

 _Over a single comment? Really, Kiyoomi?_ he mentally curses himself. He feels his cheeks heat up thinking about spending a day in the aquarium alone with Osamu, and Kiyoomi wants to bang his head against the wall. Not the right time and place for his crazy fantasies, he mentally scolds himself.

When he snaps out of his reverie, he sees the twins bickering in front of him, identical faces with identical scowls hitting playful nudges on each other's shoulder.

“Should've fuckin' eaten you in the womb.”

“Take that back, ya idiot!”

“Hah? Who're ya callin' idiot, ya idiot?”

Kiyoomi doesn't care much about the bickering. He's seen a fair share of that in high school. Even other boys in the university do that sometimes. But the loudness is starting to turn some heads in their direction, and if there's anything that Kiyoomi hates more than a mess, then it would be unnecessary attention.

He steps forward, holding out a hand to make the screaming match between the twins stop when suddenly a new voice cuts in.

“God, put the two of you together and best believe you're still going to act like loud high schoolers no matter how old you get.”

Kiyoomi halts. It's familiar. Not just for Kiyoomi, it seems. Because the twins immediately stop fighting and swiftly turn their heads to the source of the voice.

Atsumu's brows shoot up in shock. “What? Sunarin? What are you doing here?”

Sun Rintaro waltzes over the ground with a finesse that Kiyoomi has never seen in the twins. He carries himself differently, back slouched and hands stuffed inside his pockets. There's a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, his eyes flashing a mischievous gleam.

“Why are you even asking that?” Suna snorts. He takes a few quick strides, closing the distance between them until he's standing next to Osamu and directly across Atsumu. His smirk slowly morphs into a sly smile.

Somehow this irks Kiyoomi.

“I'm here because Samu invited me, of course,” Suna adds.

Okay, now he _really_ irks Kiyoomi.

“Huh?” Atsumu's brows draw in confusion. So did Kiyoomi's.

Even if Osamu invited him, why is Suna Rintarou even here in the aquarium in the first place? No, _hell_ , why is he in Tokyo? Isn't he supposed to be in Shizuoka too? First Motoya, and now him? Shouldn't they be training with his team like Atsumu does? Kiyoomi scrunches his nose. Perhaps this is why the Adlers keep beating EJP Raijin during matches. Both their renowned libero and middle blocker keep going back and forth to Tokyo instead of training and honing their skills at home.

Suna turns to Osamu, batting his lashes. “You haven't told them yet?”

“Well, I was gonna tell them but I was waiting for you to arrive first,” replies Osamu.

This sends Kiyoomi's head into an even worse state of perplexity. What are they talking about? Why did Osamu wait for him? Was Osamu keeping a secret? Why didn't he tell Kiyoomi? Aren't they supposed to be best friends? Thousands of thoughts come whirring inside Kiyoomi's head. He wants to pry. He wants to ask questions, but looking at them now, Suna and Osamu, standing side by side, a smile shared between them, Kiyoomi isn't sure if he wants to know the answers.

For Atsumu, however, that's not the case.

“I am so fucking confused right now,” Atsumu squints, fingers massaging his temples. He lifts a brow and points a finger at his twin. “Please explain before I lose my mind.”

In front of them, Osamu and Suna share another look.

And then something that Kiyoomi never saw coming happens.

Osamu slips his hand inside Suna's pocket, bringing his hand out, and then seamlessly intertwining their fingers together. He leans down, bringing his lips closer, and leaves a kiss on the back of Suna's hand.

“It's simple. We're dating now,” he announces.

It takes approximately three seconds before Atsumu starts screaming.

“What the fuck? When did this happen?” he yells, arms flailing around like a little kid. “Why didn't you tell me? My twin and one of my best friends? What the fuck?”

“We're telling you now,” Suna snorts, amused at his friend's reaction. Kiyoomi sees him squeeze Osamu's hand.

“You should have told me as soon as it happened!”

“Oh, we wanted to but…” Suna trails off and looks at Osamu who takes it as a sign to continue. The latter awkwardly clears his throat and then while looking back and forth between his friend and his twin, he adds, “We were going to tell you but you got a boyfriend at the exact same time.”

Kiyoomi stills.

_What?_

Osamu goes on.

“I confessed to Rin during our birthday party but when I turned around after he said yes, you already got Kiyoomi sitting comfortably on your lap.”

Atsumu yells something again. He's loud, almost scandalous. But everything falls on deaf ears for Kiyoomi. He's staring blankly at the three of them. Eyes open but void of any emotions. His hands are trembling but they feel numb. His legs feel heavy, like stone.

Oh. Kiyoomi gets it now. Even if he didn't approach Atsumu by mistake. Even if he had gotten to the right twin. Even if he wasn't drunk. He still never would have ended up with Osamu.

He never had a chance in the first place.

Maybe it was a blessing in disguise—confessing to Atsumu that is. Kiyoomi can't even begin to imagine what would have happened if he had approached Osamu that night, only to get smacked face front by the fact that Osamu will never go out with him.

Because Osamu likes someone, and that someone isn't Kiyoomi.

* * *

Atsumu easily picks up that something is off with Kiyoomi.

“Hey Omi-kun,” he whispers, hand covering the side of his face and head turned away from their company. “Are you okay?”

Amidst the bright light illuminating the fish tanks and despite the awestruck whoops of children around them, Kiyoomi realizes that he is not okay. He wants to go home and lock himself in his room. He feels tired. He feels… _defeated_.

But there's no way he can tell Atsumu this. Because Atsumu will make a fuss. He's always genuinely concerned for Kiyoomi's well-being, and though it would normally be considered a good thing, today he almost thinks of it as a nuisance. Because as soon as Atsumu realizes that Kiyoomi no longer wants to be here, he will do everything to help him leave. Or maybe he will even go with Kiyoomi just to make sure he gets home safely.

And no matter how much Kiyoomi wants to go home, he still doesn't want to bother Atsumu. Because this day was for the twins. A day just for them after not seeing each other for a long time. It's a special day for Atsumu and Osamu. And Suna too, apparently. Kiyoomi wasn't meant to be here anyway.

And if Atsumu keeps being nice, Kiyoomi will only drown in even more guilt.

Because how does one tell their boyfriend that he feels sick after finding out that he never had a chance with their twin?

Kiyoomi hates how fucked up the situation is.

Kiyoomi hates how this was entirely his fault even more.

So he clears his throat and shakes his head. With his calmest voice he says, “I'm okay. You don't have to worry.”

“Are you sure?” Atsumu asks, a lilt of concern in his tone.

 _No_ , he wants to say. But Kiyoomi nods his head and replies firmly. “Yes, I'm sure. You should just enjoy the displays. Don't mind me.”

Atsumu frowns and a stab of guilt pierces through Kiyoomi's chest once again. He just keeps lying and lying to Atsumu and it's starting to weigh down on him.

“Atsumu, I'm really fine,” he insists and tugs his mask down to his chin. Atsumu gasps, finally hearing the sound of his name from his boyfriend's lips. It's always been just _Miya_ for Kiyoomi. Never _Atsumu_. But today is different. Osamu is with them. He's a Miya too, and more importantly, Kiyoomi really wants to distract his boyfriend. So Kiyoomi edges closer until he can feel a warm puff of air against his skin, Atsumu breathing close. This is cheating, he knows. Atsumu likes him, and being this close to him, whispering his name like a quiet prayer, is bound to make Atsumu unable to say no to any of his requests. Kiyoomi offers him a small but sweet smile. “The aquarium displays are really pretty. You should focus your attention on them instead of me.”

 _Don't look at me_ , he doesn't say. _You can't find out_.

“Alright,” Atsumu replies after a while but Kiyoomi sees the way his lips downturn into another frown. He's not convinced, that much is obvious. But the fact that he's not prying any longer means he must have realized that he's not getting anything from Kiyoomi either way. Atsumu looks at Kiyoomi again, eyes too sincere and genuine for the latter to handle. “But if you need anything just tell me, okay?”

“Sure,” he replies and pulls his mask back up to his nose.

They fall into a comfortable silence after that. Standing side by side but no longer talking. Like what Kiyoomi said, Atsumu busies himself by watching the display with wonder in his eyes. He sometimes lets out a _woah that's so cool_ or tugs at Kiyoomi's sleeve because _omi-kun, look at that shark! it's so huge!_ It's almost adorable.

Just like that, Kiyoomi lets himself be distracted by the colorful fishes and the cool shark Atsumu wanted him to see. He allows his mind to be filled with awe and wonder. He lets his mind feast on the view of the ocean through the floor-length glass. _This is nice_ , he thinks as a school of fish swims past in front of him. His eyes follow them and he sees them almost colliding with another school. Kiyoomi chuckles. _This is really nice_.

He treads down the hallways of the aquarium, marveling at each display with deep fascination. Should he get some souvenirs before they leave later? He saw a fish that looks like Motoya a while ago. Maybe they have a trinket with that as a design. He could buy that one and give it as a gift—

“Hey,” he feels a gentle jab on his shoulder and turns around to see Osamu peering at him with curiosity. He blinks at him, confused. Huh? When did he get there? Where is Atsumu? Wasn't Kiyoomi standing next to him just now? 

Osamu slips his hands inside the pockets of his pants and slides next to Kiyoomi. His eyes are on the display in front of them but Osamu doesn't need to look at Kiyoomi for him to know that he's being addressed.

His best friend nudges him again lightly on the arm. “You've been quiet today.”

Kiyoomi doesn't budge. He cocks his head and lifts a brow at his friend. “Aren't I always?”

“Hm, well yeah,” Osamu huffs and shrugs. “But you're even more quiet today. Normally you'd throw random comments here and there. Maybe drop scientific facts you got somewhere too. Yet for some reason, today you're just awfully quiet.”

“Am I?” Kiyoomi hums, stuffing his hands inside the pockets of his coat, copying Osamu. He turns on his feet and walks ahead, leaving his friend to trail after him.

A strange feeling fills Kiyoomi. If they were in an entirely different situation, he would probably blush and feel giddy as he walks around the aquarium with Osamu by his side.

But it sucks for Kiyoomi because fate just doesn't work that way.

Taking huge strides next to him, Osamu's brows draw together in a frown, and he looks at Kiyoomi intently. He asks, “Is there something bothering you today?”

 _Ah_ , Kiyoomi halts. If even Atsumu realized then of course, Osamu would notice it too. He's known him for three years after all. Spent countless days with him in the university, drank a lot of beer and coffee together, and even had multiple breakdowns with each other.

Osamu is his best friend, and it's no surprise that he can see right through Kiyoomi.

Clearing his throat, Kiyoomi turns to face him. Just like what he's been doing lately, he lies. “It's nothing, Samu. Don't mind me.”

Osamu lets out an exasperated sigh. He shakes his head and sucks air through his teeth. “Kiyoomi, I've heard you say the same thing over and over again in the last three years,” he starts, eyes burning holes into Kiyoomi's soul. “And during those three years, every single time you say it's nothing, you're just lying.”

Kiyoomi's heart soars at the sentiment. Osamu surely does know him more than anyone huh? But he bites his tongue and snaps his hope in half. _Stop_ , he tells himself. Osamu is your friend. Nothing more. He already has someone.

 _You_ already have someone.

“Wow, Samu. Did you ever consider changing majors?” Kiyoomi scoffs, trying to shift his friend's attention away. He glances back at the aquarium. A manta ray swims by. _That's cute_ , he thinks. He cocks his head. “You'd do well in Psychology too, did you know that?”

“Right,” the other crosses his arms over his chest. “But I don't need a psychology degree to know that you're avoiding this conversation on purpose.”

“No, I'm not,” Kiyoomi scowls, defensive. “It's really nothing, Osamu. I'm fine.”

“Oh geez, would you look at that? You're calling me Osamu now.”

“Well, that's your name, isn't it?” Kiyoomi rolls his eyes and starts walking faster. He expects Osamu to follow him again, to match his pace and walk beside him. But his best friend stops and stills on one spot. Kiyoomi takes a pause and looks back to peer at him.

“Is it something you can't tell me?” Osamu suddenly asks, voice low and quiet. He won't give up easily, Kiyoomi knows that. Even if he stops walking, that doesn't mean he's had enough. Kiyoomi continues to say nothing and after a while, Osamu nods his head in silent understanding. Kiyoomi wonders if he's going to stop asking him questions now.

But Osamu does the exact opposite. He treads the distance between them and asks, “It's about me and Rin, isn't it?”

Kiyoomi's head snaps up. “What?”

“I didn't mean to hide it from you,” Osamu says, voice pensive. “But you seemed preoccupied with Tsumu lately and I didn't wanna just dump the news on you.”

“Samu, I'm not bothered by that.” He is. But not for the reason Osamu thinks.

“You're lying, Kiyoomi.”

Kiyoomi purses his lips. Again, he is. That's all he ever does lately. Lie after another lie. But how can he deny that he's lying after being called out like that?

He heaves a sigh in defeat. His shoulders drop and his hands move to sullenly massage his temple. “Yeah, fine. Alright. I admit. Hearing about it today bothered me.”

_It bothered me because I realized I never had a chance. It bothered me because I know that even if I tried to fight, I would just lose horribly. It bothered me because even though I should be happy for you, all I'm feeling is this fucked up sense of insecurity._

Kiyoomi holds them all in.

“I knew it,” Osamu frowns. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I'm sorry, Kiyo. I really wasn't trying to hide it from you. You're my best friend. I was planning on telling you right after I told Tsumu.”

“But you didn't tell Atsumu.”

“I didn't.”

“And you didn't think to tell either one of us again for a month?”

Osamu chokes on air.

“Well, Tsumu was always busy with training,” he reasons out and Kiyoomi can't refute him on that. He's received a number of texts from Atsumu too. Most of them talking about how hard the training has been lately. He doesn't have much free time now as well. “And you looked like you're always deep in thought these days. With exams and everything you got going on in your life, I guess. I didn't think telling you I have a boyfriend now will be of help.”

Oh, how right was he. Telling Kiyoomi that he got himself a boyfriend would have definitely thrown him into a weird state. He also would have probably failed several exams if that happened. Kiyoomi shudders at the thought. Anything but that.

“But a month, Samu?” He repeats, tone screaming tired and done. A month. Kiyoomi let himself drown in what-ifs for a month. He got too caught up in his own thoughts and illusions for a month, only for it to be in vain. He knows it's not Osamu's fault. Not Suna's either. Nor Atsumu's. No one told Kiyoomi to expect anything. It was all on him. He purses his lips. “You didn't say a thing for a month.”

“It kinda slipped my mind for some time cause I was busy with exams too. You know how it gets,” Osamu explains and Kiyoomi can tell that he truly feels bad, regret lacing his words. “And when Tsumu said he'd be back in Tokyo the same time Rin would be visiting, I thought why not just tell you both at the same time then?”

“I was always with you when you're studying,” Kiyoomi retorts. _I was always there thinking about what could have been_ , his brain adds and his mouth ignores. He puts both of his hands on his hips and juts his lips into a pout. “I even asked you about what you think about me and Atsumu dating.”

“I know, I know,” Osamu sighs apologetically. “I'm sorry, okay? Forgive me, Kiyo. I'm not gonna do it again.”

“Well, you better not. Unless you have another secret boyfriend you haven't told me about.”

“No, of course not. It's just Rin,” a knife in the stomach. “I only like Rintaro,” an arrow straight to his chest. “I can't see myself dating anyone but him,” the final killing blow to his heart.

How can anyone even dare to challenge that kind of love and devotion?

Sakusa Kiyoomi has no choice but to accept defeat.

“Then he better make you happy or else,” Kiyoomi lets out a deep exhale of breath. It's fine. It's over. He's happy for his best friend. He deserves to be loved. Even if it's not Kiyoomi. He cranes his neck to look back at Osamu, and with a smirk, he says, “Tell him that I know all the perfect bones to break and it won't be painless.”

Just then, someone whistles appreciatively from behind them.

“Oh? Is this a shovel talk from the best friend?” Suna suddenly perks up, a lazy grin on his lips. “I just got one from the uglier twin. You can lay it all on me now too.”

“The fuck are you calling ugly, Sunarin? Your boyfriend and I have the exact same face,” protests Atsumu, kicking him by the shin. 

Suna manages to avoid him and snorts, fanning a hand in front of his face and scoffing. “Please, Tsumu. We all know Samu is way hotter than you.”

“Get your eyes checked, you dumbass.”

“It's been twenty-one years. It's time to accept the ugly truth and that is your face.”

“Shut yer mouth, Sunarin!”

As the two continue to bicker, Osamu and Kiyoomi turn to look at each other. The moment their eyes meet, they break into a burst of quiet laughter, a newfound connection shared between them.

 _It's better like this_ , Kiyoomi thinks. He looks at Osamu's smile as he walks toward the other two, and glances at the grins on both Suna's and Atsumu's faces as they squabble.

As long as they're happy, then it's fine.

Kiyoomi can live with it.

  
  
  



	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiyoomi isn't a stranger to this feeling. He's had it before. Once or twice. Probably more. The weird fluttery feeling in his stomach. The rapid beating of his heart. The sweaty palms and the tongue-tied ramblings. It’s been with him—almost constantly for three whole years. Kiyoomi isn’t that clueless to know what it means. But what's surprising to him is the possible cause and the fact that this brings to light.

Moving on from someone who was never in a relationship with you sounds absurd—but that's exactly what Kiyoomi is doing.

From that day they went to the aquarium, Kiyoomi began distancing himself from Osamu. He promptly says goodbye from the other three just before dinner, politely declining their invitation to eat together. He turns off his phone after shooting a quick “ _thank you for today_ ” text to Atsumu, and stops answering messages or opening his social media accounts. The moment he comes back to the university, Kiyoomi starts avoiding places he used to frequently visit. He refuses all hangouts from his classmates. He locks himself in his room and doesn't come out unless he has to. His life became like clockwork. A constant repetition between his apartment and his classrooms. But it's fine. Kiyoomi doesn't really mind. He's always been a homebody even back then. He remembers his mother fawning over him, cooing at his pale skin that was rarely touched by the sun.

It was only thanks to meeting Osamu in the university that he started putting himself out more.

Now it's also because of Osamu that Kiyoomi is crawling back inside his shell.

It's not an easy thing to do after three years of getting used to being constantly around his best friend. He spent his entire college life trying to unlearn his own ways in high school, and now he has to turn it all back around again. The whole thing keeps giving him a whiplash, but Kiyoomi knows he has no choice. He needs to do it. He's doing this for himself. For Osamu—even for Atsumu. 

_Osamu is a friend,_ he tells himself as he slips his books inside his bag. _He's a best friend that helped you get through the first three years of college._ He stands from his seat and pushes the chair back under the table. _You liked him but he has a boyfriend now_ , he drills it in his head over and over again as he walks on the familiar hallways of the library.

_He has a boyfriend and so do you._

No one ever told Kiyoomi that getting over a crush was this hard. It wasn't like this with anyone. Not even Wakatoshi. A first crush should be the hardest to let go right? Yet it was nowhere near as stressful as today. Maybe that was because he was younger then, an innocent twelve year old Kiyoomi fancying an older boy who folded the damp side of a handkerchief on the inside. He remembers how Motoya laughed at him for developing feelings over something as trivial as that. But Kiyoomi thinks that it wasn't just that meager encounter that made him fall. Yes, perhaps he likes clean guys with proper hygiene like Wakatoshi, but he admired him as a volleyball player too. He believed Wakatoshi was strong and someday hoped to be like him.

Nevertheless, even with feelings that pure and genuine, getting over his infatuation with the other ace merely took Kiyoomi a few weeks of not seeing him shortly after a match in middle school.

He still admired him—praised him and his strength as a player. He still wished to be as great as him. But Kiyoomi stopped thinking about holding his hand. He stopped imagining staying up late just to talk to him. He stopped wondering what it would be like to go on dates with him after realizing how far Tokyo is from Miyagi. An appalling fact shakes Kiyoomi to the core right then.

He wouldn't be able to see Wakatoshi all the time even if they somehow start going out.

Kiyoomi didn't like that idea.

Maybe that's just how it is for him. Kiyoomi wants to feel the presence of the person he likes or else he grows tired of them. Kiyoomi needs to spend time and see that person all the time or his feelings will start to waver. He remembers resonating greatly during that one psychology elective he had last year. The class was interesting, but when his professor mentioned that people get attracted to those who are constantly around them, Kiyoomi finds himself gripping the edge of his seat. The words ring in his head even as the bell rings and the class comes to an end. Kiyoomi gets that. He understands that. He _feels_ that. He has only ever liked people who bear a constant presence beside him. His infatuation with Wakatoshi started during the Nationals and ended shortly after. His interest in high school captain can be explained similarly too. Kiyoomi liked Iizuna but he barely even thought about him after he graduated. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they said? Kiyoomi scrunches his nose at the thought. Not for him, it seems.

But regardless of that, heart growing fonder or not, Miya Osamu is a presence that sticks to Kiyoomi like glue. Trying to avoid him for a few days isn't going to cut it. After all, if there was one constant in Kiyoomi's college life, then that would be Osamu.

For years it was the two of them. Wherever he goes, Osamu goes. In the library. In the cafeteria. On the fields. In the gyms. In his favorite coffee shop. Osamu is everywhere. And if Kiyoomi wants to be rid of his feelings, then he needs to run.

Running away, Kiyoomi thinks, now this is something he's fairly good at—and he does it with so much ease that it can almost be his second nature.

So Kiyoomi runs away. He buries himself under mountains of paper works. He sticks his nose into piles of textbooks. He busies himself with case studies after case studies. He drowns in his workload every single day. Kiyoomi runs like this—in a cowardly and yet effective way where no one can fault him for doing so. If Osamu tries to call him out, he can easily use his degree as an excuse. He wants to graduate with honors and make his parents proud so he's working hard. No one can blame him for that. And if there's anyone who can understand this better than most, then that would be Osamu as well.

He keeps at it for days—and it's hard. He runs in the opposite direction whenever he sees Osamu. He turns his phone off at night knowing his best friend will try to call him. He stopped frequenting his favorite coffee shop and settled with the free watered down coffee in the library. He started taking lunch way earlier so he won't have the chance to bump into Osamu in the cafeteria.

Kiyoomi switched up his entire routine to avoid Osamu—reverted back into his old life that he barely even remembers anymore—and frankly, he's getting tired. He doesn't know how much longer he can continue doing this. If he’s being honest, Kiyoomi just wants to wave his white flag and give up. After all, Osamu was his best friend before he became the guy he likes. He's been his anchor for years and the friendship they built will always be special for Kiyoomi. Much more than the romantic feelings that he developed along the way. But as long as the latter still follows the former, then Kiyoomi simply can't lower his guards down. 

If there's something that Kiyoomi currently fears, then it's the fact that suddenly seeing Osamu again after several days might just make him feel stronger.

He doesn't want that.

He can't have that.

And so Kiyoomi bites his tongue and continues—until days turn to a week, and a week becomes two.

He keeps at it until it's not just Osamu he's ignoring.

He hears the buzz of his phone but he doesn't spare it a glance. He sees a familiar name flashing on his screen, numerous texts coming one after another. His heart clenches. His hands are itching to reach over and reply—to settle the worries and end the storm.

He grits his teeth.

Kiyoomi turns his phone face down.

He doesn't know how to do it. He doesn’t know what to say.

His phone buzzes one last time.

And then it stops.

How can he even face Atsumu without thinking about Osamu?

* * *

**Miya Atsumu:** omi?

 **Miya Atsumu:** hey it's been a while

 **Miya Atsumu:** samu said you've been very busy with exams

 **Miya Atsumu:** i know it's important but please

 **Miya Atsumu:** remember to take care of yourself, okay?

 **Miya Atsumu:** you don't have to reply, i know you're busy!

 **Miya Atsumu:** but this is a text reminding you to eat dinner and get some rest before your class tomorrow <3 

-

**Miya Atsumu:** omi-kun!!! we have a new member!!

 **Miya Atsumu:** it's someone you know!!!

 **Miya Atsumu:** it's bokuto kotaro from fukurodani

 **Miya Atsumu:** i tried intimidating him but it didn't work

 **Miya Atsumu:** maybe thinking about you all the time turned me into a whole softie oh no

 **Miya Atsumu:** you seem busy so i'm not gonna bother you anymore

 **Miya Atsumu:** study well but take care!!

-

**Miya Atsumu:** training is hell omi

 **Miya Atsumu:** my whole body is sore i can't move

-

**Miya Atsumu:** hey are you okay? :(

 **Miya Atsumu:** ~~i miss you~~

-

**Miya Atsumu:** please remember to eat on time and take care of yourself, omi-kun!

  
  


* * *

The game of chase ends with Osamu cornering Kiyoomi after one of his classes.

It was almost lunch time and lunch time is when Osamu is usually busy sitting somewhere and stuffing his face full of food. He would normally be in the cafeteria or some fast food chain down the street so Kiyoomi is sure he won't be seeing him around so soon.

Kiyoomi steps out of his room with a hand behind his neck, rolling his head and stretching his arm. He just got out of an exhausting three hour lecture but he's not that hungry yet. He had a heavy breakfast this morning, courtesy of his mother sending him food packages every week. He glances down at his wristwatch and purses his lips. Should he buy his lunch now or wait until Osamu's class starts so he's sure they would never cross paths?

Yet as if fate is playing him by the strings, Kiyoomi sees Osamu as soon as he puts a foot on the hallway. His broad back slouched against the wall with his arms loosely crossing over his chest. Kiyoomi sees the exact moment Osamu spots him. His best friend's eyes widen and his arms fall limp to his side. He straightens his back and starts trudging towards him. Kiyoomi shifts, turning on his feet to change his course like an instinct of a prey running away from a predator. But before he can take another step, a hand reaches out to grab his wrist. The firm grip locks him in place, leaving him unable to move or escape, and Kiyoomi knows that this time, there is nowhere to run.

“Where do you think you're going?” Osamu asks, voice gruff.

“Uh,” Kiyoomi opens his mouth, thinking of another excuse to throw at Osamu. What should he say? Bathroom? Cafeteria? Home? No. All those are places Osamu can easily tag along and interrogate him and he doesn’t know if he’s ready for that yet. Kiyoomi clears his throat and points east. “Library?”

A quirk of his brow and grip tightening. “Oh? So now you're interested in studying there again?”

“What do you mean?” Kiyoomi gulps and laughs nervously. He looks at Osamu directly into the eyes, dark eyes holding a hazel gaze. “I'm always in the library.”

“That's interesting. You don't seem to be there whenever I look for you.”

_That's because I make sure you're in class so we can't bump into each other._

Kiyoomi forces a smile and shrugs. “Maybe you just didn't see me?”

Osamu hums, eyes gradually narrowing into slits. He doesn't believe Kiyoomi, that much is obvious. But his grip loosens and he takes a step back. “Sure. Maybe you're right. Perhaps I just didn't search enough.”

“So do you need anything else?” Kiyoomi asks, throat rough and tongue heavy. He blinks rapidly at his friend, jerking a thumb to the library's direction. “I gotta study now cause I have an exam tomorrow.”

He doesn't. Nonetheless, studying doesn't look so bad if it gets him an excuse to run away from Osamu. 

But then Osamu claps his hands together. He beams, eyes crinkling as he smiles. “That's great then. I have an exam soon too. Let's study together.”

Any other time and Kiyoomi would melt at that smile. The way his lips ever so slightly curve at the corners, dimples appearing on his cheeks. He would go weak and think about it until he falls asleep.

But not today.

Because in this exact moment, the smile that he used to love makes him feel nothing but wary.

He shakes his head vigorously, hands raised and palms facing forward. “Huh? No! You can work on your own. I'll probably distract you.”

“We've been studying together for three years, Kiyoomi,” Osamu snorts, hands resting on his hips. He leans his body and his smile grows wider. “You're way too late for that.”

“But—”

“Ah, ah, ah. No buts or we're gonna have to acknowledge the fact that you were deliberately avoiding me for two weeks.”

Kiyoomi shuts his mouth.

He thinks about everything he's been doing for the last two weeks. The running. The hiding. The drowning.

He sighs. Alright. Studying together in the library it is.

* * *

Osamu, for some reason unknown to Kiyoomi, doesn't bring up the topic of the last two weeks. He was thankful for it. He doesn't know if he can handle it right now. Three years of feelings don’t just go away in two weeks anyway. How can Kiyoomi even tell Osamu that he likes him? And that he got hurt when he found out that he's dating Suna now? How the hell can Kiyoomi even begin to admit that he tried distancing himself in hopes of moving on? And that he's barely succeeded when Osamu found him again?

Kiyoomi clutches his pen tightly, his hand begins to shake.

But then again, if Kiyoomi doesn't say anything now then he will never find another opportunity like this again. He's going to have to live with the burden of the truth on his shoulders much longer and let the guilt slowly eat him up inside and out.

So he's going to do it.

Kiyoomi is finally going to come clean.

“Hey, Samu,” Kiyoomi starts, eyes peeking through the top of the textbook he's holding. “Are you not gonna’ say anything to me?”

“Huh?” Osamu looks up from his notebook, hand pausing midway through his highlighting. He was really just studying like he said. No questions. No queries. Osamu lifts a brow. “Am I supposed to say something?”

Now Kiyoomi doesn't know if Osamu is being serious or this is one of his ways to make Kiyoomi admit that he was indeed avoiding him for weeks. He could easily take the bait and spill the truth. Or he could shake his head and act as if nothing happened. _The ball is in your court_ , is what Osamu is trying to tell him. It's up to Kiyoomi if he wants to talk about it or not. He can run away again if he wants to. Osamu is giving him the chance. All he needs to do is take it.

But the two weeks are enough. He already made up his mind.

It's time for Kiyoomi to stop and face this problem head on.

“Will you not ask me why?”

Osamu blinks slowly until his expression softens. He lets out a burst of breathy laughter and his lips curve into a smile. “Oh, so we're going to talk about it?”

Sighing in defeat, Kiyoomi promptly shuts his book and rests both his arms on top of the table. “Two weeks is a long time of running away. I get tired too, Samu.”

“If I ask,” Osamu copies Kiyoomi, propping his arms over his notebook. “Will you answer me honestly?”

A weak nod of the head. “I'll try my best.”

As if on cue, the smile on Osamu's face drops, a frown easily replacing it. He purses his lips together and intertwines his fingers, raising his clasped hands just enough to hide his mouth behind his knuckles. 

“Why did you do it?” he asks, his tone implicating nothing but seriousness. Gone was the sweet and playful best friend Kiyoomi is familiar with. The person sitting in front of him is just Miya Osamu, stern gaze and lips pressed into a thin line.

Why? He had asked. Kiyoomi knows exactly what to say. He's been dreading this question for years, haunting him for months. How should he begin? How can he properly articulate the feelings that have been stirring inside him for as long as he can remember?

Kiyoomi is afraid. But he promised honesty. And that's exactly what Osamu will get. It's what he deserves.

He opens his mouth, throat burning and heart set ablaze. His hands curl into fists, clenching them so tight that his knuckles turn white.

“It's because I—”

“Ah, on second thought. I don't wanna know,” Osamu interrupts, abruptly cutting him off.

“What?”

Kiyoomi stares at him dumbly, eyes wide and mouth agape as if his best friend had grown another head in front of him.

He was finally going to voice it out. Say the truth itching for a release—but Osamu had stopped him.

Why?

Osamu leans against his chair, placing an arm over his eyes, and sighs. “You don't have to tell me. You can just keep it a secret, Kiyoomi.”

“But—”

“Your hands were shaking so badly,” Osamu huffs, pulling himself back up and sitting up straight. Kiyoomi pauses and looks down. _Oh._ Osamu is right. His hands are trembling. He bites his lip and curls his hands into fists. Osamu smiles kindly, resting his elbow on the table, and drops his chin on his palm. “You don't have to tell me if you're not ready.”

Kiyoomi's brows draw together. “I thought you wanted to know?”

“I do,” he says and pauses. “I did.”

The change in his tone is apparent. Even his expressions are a giveaway, albeit minimal. Kiyoomi edges closer, lips pulled down into a confused frown. He asks, “Then why?”

_Why did you stop me?_

He drops his hand back down, palms flat on the table. Slowly, they inch closer and closer until his fingers are touching each other. Osamu drops his head and releases a shaky breath.

“I'm scared,” he says.

Kiyoomi freezes. He tilts his head, eyes carefully studying Osamu. He's smiling but it doesn't reach his eyes, lips faintly twitching as if forced. He's looking down, staring at his hands where he's fiddling with his thumbs.

“Shouldn't I be the one who's scared?” Kiyoomi asks.

“I know. But I am too,” Osamu takes a deep breath. He raises his eyes and meets Kiyoomi's. He holds his gaze and his pupils start to shake. “I'm scared that once I hear it then it's going to be real.”

“Osamu...”

Suddenly, Kiyoomi's throat feels dry. His heart drums loudly against his ribcage and he wonders if it would jump out of his chest any moment now. He opens his mouth, words hanging at the tip of his tongue. But none comes out. _He knows. He knows. He knows._ The thought repeats continuously inside his head, blaring like an alarm.

Osamu turns to him and smiles again. “Kiyoomi?”

“You know.”

It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

A pin drop silence follows.

Osamu shrugs. “I don't know.”

But he does.

Kiyoomi can say with his whole chest that Osamu _definitely_ does. The way he's smiling screams so. It's wide, teasing, but also grim. And Kiyoomi can understand why. If he does indeed know then, of course, an obvious problem presents itself at his door. If he really knows, then Osamu must be thinking of his brother. Thinking about what he should do about it. If he should tell him or keep it a secret so Atsumu won't get hurt. If he should help Kiyoomi continue lying and prolong this fake sense of happiness in their lives. Or if he should rip the bandaid off and set everything aflame.

It's a burden Kiyoomi can't even begin to imagine what it would be like to carry.

“I'm sorry,” Kiyoomi whispers, apologetic and sincere. A pained expression colors his face. “It's all on me.”

“It's fine,” Osamu laughs. Dry. Humorless. Cold. Fake. “I honestly just want to pretend it didn't happen. I don't even want to think about it anymore.”

“I'm really sorry,” he repeats, and if he could, he would say it over and over again. Kiyoomi feels like crying. Here he is, sitting in front of his best friend whom he's been in love with for years, apologizing for lying to his twin and running away. Who would have thought Kiyoomi would find himself in a situation like this? Absolutely no one.

Kiyoomi wraps his arms around his body, curling his shoulder and making himself look smaller. When he finds his voice again, hurt and broken, Kiyoomi asks, “When did you figure it out?”

It's pathetic. Humiliating. Embarrassing. Distancing yourself away from your best friend in hopes that you would move on from an unrequited love, only to find out that he's known all these time.

“Figure what out?” Osamu blinks his eyes innocently. He's picking up a pen now. Turning open his notebook and humming like their earlier conversation did not just happen.

_Ah. So this is how he wants to do it._

Kiyoomi's heart slows down, his body relaxing as the nerves gradually settle. He sighs. “Will this change anything between us?”

Osamu jerks, surprised by the question. He shakes his head, hands moving animatedly in refusal. “No. Because nothing happened. You were just busy with exams for two weeks so you accidentally ignored _everyone_ around you.”

“Really?”

A nod. “Really. We're all good, Kiyo.”

“Do you forgive me now?” Kiyoomi asks, voice quiet and wary. He bats his lashes at Osamu, hoping to gain sympathy.

His best friend squints and crosses his arms.

“Well,” Osamu starts. “We're all good. But I think you're forgetting someone very important.”

“What?” Kiyoomi frowns and Osamu raises a brow at him, gaze challenging.

Kiyoomi’s face scrunches in confusion. What does Osamu’s look mean? Who is he forgetting? Should he apologize to Suna too? Is that what he’s trying to say?

Suddenly, a very familiar face flashes in his eyes and burns at the back of his mind.

“Fuck,” Kiyoomi startles, back straightening as a realization hits him. It's been two weeks of avoiding Osamu. Two weeks of running away from him and anything that will remind Kiyoomi of his best friend. And that includes—

“I haven't talked to Miya in two weeks,” he says, almost breathless.

Osamu snorts, a knowing look on his face. “Exactly. You haven't talked to _both_ Miyas in two weeks.”

“I didn't mean to ignore him.”

“Yeah. You only wanted to ignore me.”

“I'm trying to apologize here, Samu,” Kiyoomi lets out a resigned sigh.

“And I already accepted your apology but man, Kiyoomi,” Osamu clicks his tongue and stretches, placing both his hands at the back of his neck. He leans back and wrinkles his nose. “Do you even know what I had to go through for two weeks because of you?”

“Huh?” Kiyoomi blinks. “Again, I'm sorry for avoiding you. I know it's unfair but—”

“I didn't mean that.”

Kiyoomi scowls. “Then what?”

A deep, frustrated sigh leaves Osamu’s lips. “Like I said, you ignored both Miyas for two whole weeks, and do you know what happens when Atsumu gets ignored for two weeks? By someone who's supposed to be his boyfriend especially?”

“I—”

“He calls me, Kiyo,” Osamu says, face devoid of any emotion. “He calls me and he whines.”

“He what?”

“He whines!” his best friend repeats. “He whines about his precious Omi-kun ignoring him. He whines about Omi-omi not replying to his messages. He whines about Omi here and Omi there. He fuckin' whines.”

Kiyoomi stares at him, wide eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, only to end up closing it without uttering a single word. 

Atsumu? Whining? Because Kiyoomi ignored him? Well, knowing how Atsumu was in high school, that doesn't seem too surreal. But the Atsumu that Kiyoomi talked to? He was too understanding and respectful of Kiyoomi's private time and space. Acting all mature and serious most of the time they’re together—not counting that day they went to the aquarium when he was loud and brash. But Kiyoomi guessed that was only because he was with his brother and a close high school friend.

So imagining the Atsumu who he walked around in Tokyo with. The Atsumu who sat quietly on the car ride with him. The Atsumu who didn't want to intrude and left Kiyoomi's apartment as soon as he could to give him space. The Atsumu who never complained about Kiyoomi being a bad texter. The Atsumu who never pried nor asked questions more than necessary.

How is that the same Atsumu who supposedly whines to his twin brother because Kiyoomi has been ignoring him for two weeks?

But then again, no matter how patient and understanding he is, he too must have reached his limits. Two weeks isn't a short time. Kiyoomi knows that first hand. Atsumu must have been fed up.

“He always whines and whines and whines about you,” Osamu suddenly speaks up, snapping him out of his thoughts. “He keeps rambling about how you're going to go back to ignoring him like you did in high school.”

Kiyoomi cocks his head. “High school?”

“Yeah. Didn't that idiot tell ya?” Osamu groans. “He has liked you since our first year in high school. When we had a match during Spring High.”

Oh. Atsumu did tell him that. Kiyoomi remembers the warm hands on his waist, holding him up. He remembers the shy smile and the faint tinge of pink dusting Atsumu's cheeks when he told Kiyoomi about wanting to confess at their last Spring Nationals.

“I remember how he was excited during the All-Japan Youth training camp cause you were there with him even though I wasn’t,” Osamu scoffs but Kiyoomi can see the fond smile on his face as if he's recalling a nice memory. “Wouldn't stop talking about Omi-kun for fucking years.”

Kiyoomi bites his lip, blood slowly rushing to his face as he comes to an important realization. Atsumu likes him. Atsumu _really_ likes him.

“So you knew?” Kiyoomi asks, voice as low and quiet as a whisper. “You knew he liked me when we met in college three years ago?”

“Please. It's impossible not to. He was already bad enough before you started dating. But now he's like a hundred times worse,” Osamu says, rolling his eyes. He wraps his arms around himself and fakes a shudder. “I thought he'd tone it down when you started dating, but hell I was wrong.”

“He still talked about me?”

Osamu turns to him, staring directly into his eyes, and gawks at Kiyoomi as if he's just said something absurd. “He only ever talks about you. That idiot is head over heels for you.”

Kiyoomi's heart skips a beat and his breath is taken away as the hazel eyes bore deep into his soul. His chest feels heavy and his throat feels rough. He looks down and fiddles nervously with his thumbs. Kiyoomi feels like throwing up but he doesn't know why.

“Head over fuckin' heels, Kiyoomi,” Osamu repeats as if forcibly drilling each word inside his brain.

“Really? He still likes me?”

“A whole fuckin’ lot.”

“Even if I weren't a good boyfriend?”

Osamu's eyes widen and he huffs. He doesn't need to say more because Kiyoomi can see it in his eyes. The challenge, as if daring him to do something he knows Osamu wouldn't like.

“Ah, you were aware?” he asks, voice even and calm. Kiyoomi feels chills running through his spine.

“Believe it or not, I'm only realizing it now, thanks to you,” he gives him a shrug and a lackluster smile. “I don't think I've given him even the tiniest fraction of the affection he deserves.”

His best friend grimaces in agreement. “You're probably also aware of this but to tell you the truth, you need to work on a lot of things in your relationship, Kiyoomi.”

“I know.” He does. And he will.

“By a lot, I mean, a lot,” Osamu widens his eyes and Kiyoomi hears the words left unsaid.

He nods. “Like I said, I know.”

A disgruntled huff. “He really loves you, you know?”

Kiyoomi stills. Love?

Oh.

Now that's something he hasn't heard before.

Atsumu liking him took a while to sink in. But love? Atsumu loves him.

Atsumu is in love with him.

_Oh god._

Osamu must have seen the look on his face because he keeps talking, eyes trained outside, looking somewhere distant. “Up until now, that idiot calls me every night to remind me to look out for you and make your favorite comfort food in case you get stressed during exams,” his best friend groans and turns to face him again. “He still has all the brands of your favorite masks and sanitizers listed down and orders me around to buy them and carry them in case you run out or forget to bring one.”

Kiyoomi's breath hitches. This time, it's him who looks at Osamu with confusion, brows furrowed and mouth open in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Huh?”

“Do you mean it was Atsumu who told you to do those stuff? The sanitizers, the extra masks, the chazuke, and the umeboshi?” Kiyoomi shoots up from his seat, hands slamming down on the table, startling Osamu and causing a couple of students to look their way. But he doesn't care. His eyes are only on his best friend. “All of it was because Atsumu told you to?”

Osamu blinks at him, eyes filled with a mix of shock and confusion. “Yeah? I told him I became friends with you and he started nagging me about it. I was afraid to bother you but he insisted doing those will make you feel more comfortable around me. Didn't I tell you that during freshman year?”

Freshman year? When did he ever tell Kiyoomi that? He had no recollection of Osamu ever mentioning Atsumu whenever he did anything for Kiyoomi.

He gulps, suddenly nervous and on edge. “When did you tell me?”

“The first time I visited your apartment,” Osamu says, squinting. “You were sick and you told me not to come. But Atsumu badgered me to bring you food and medicine. I even made you special chazuke instead of the umeboshi onigiri cause he said you wouldn’t eat food prepared by someone else. I know I told you that time cause you smiled and told me to say thank you to him while you ate.”

That was almost three years ago. Kiyoomi doesn't have any memory of Osamu telling him that but he knows his best friend had been there. He had been sick and Motoya had been preoccupied with a game. No one was there to take care of him. Not until Osamu had knocked on his door and let himself in. 

Kiyoomi thinks that was the time he realized that he was starting to like Osamu more than a best friend should.

Kiyoomi's head starts to spin.

“It was Atsumu,” is the only thing running in his head as he falls back into his seat, slumping against the wooden frame of the chair. “It was him from the very beginning.”

A wave of realization hits him right then.

Kiyoomi was indeed smart, but he was also really _really_ stupid.

* * *

**Omi-kun** : Hey

 **Omi-kun** : Are you busy?

 **Atsumu** : omg omi omi

 **Atsumu** : hello and no i'm not busy

 **Atsumu** : it's like ten in the evening, omi?

 **Atsumu:** aren't You busy?

 **Omi-kun** : Oh

 **Omi-kun** : Right

 **Atsumu** : is something wrong?

 **Omi-kun** : Ah, no.

 **Omi-kun** : I guess I just wanted to talk to you tonight.

 **Atsumu** : omi omi you're making me blush

 **Atsumu** : this feels like an honor

 **Atsumu** : the great sakusa kiyoomi wants to talk to me

 **Omi-kun** : ….

 **Omi-kun** : You're already making me regret it, Atsu

 **Omi-kun** : Atsumu*

 **Atsumu** : atsu sounds cute

 **Atsumu** : just call me atsu, omi omi!

 **Omi-kun** : No thank you

 **Atsumu** : aww why not?

 **Atsumu** : don't boyfriends have cute nicknames?

 **Atsumu** : i call you omi omi

 **Atsumu** : you should call me something cute too!

 **Omi-kun** : Is Pain in the Ass cute enough?

 **Atsumu** : omi kun that's so mean ಥ﹏ಥ

 **Omi-kun** : Shouldn't you be used to that by now?

 **Omi-kun** : I have an exam tomorrow

 **Omi-kun** : I have to study now

 **Atsumu** : oh okay omi

 **Atsumu** : good luck!

 **Atsumu** : and hey you're not always mean

 **Atsumu** : you can be pretty sweet too sometimes

 **Atsumu** : ah!

 **Atsumu** : by the way, even though i was teasing you about it, you know you can always message me anytime about anything.

 **Atsumu** : i'll be willing to listen

 **Omi-kun** : You talk too much

 **Omi-kun** : But thank you

 **Omi-kun** : Atsu

 **Atsumu** : (⊙_⊙)

_You changed_ **_Atsumu_ ** _'s contact name to_ **_Atsu_** _._

* * *

Everything starts to change. Just like cogs spinning and locking, finally fitting in their rightful places, Kiyoomi's life begins to shift as well.

It kicks off with the nickname. Such a minuscule detail. Not even worth noting if you think about how the two of them have been dating for months now. From the unfamiliar call of _Miya_ , to a whispered declaration of _Atsumu_ , then down to the gently intimate utterance of _Atsu_. Something so simple and yet a strong, definitive, driving force for everything that follows.

Daily calls. Frequent exchange of messages. Late night conversations about their days. Shared screen movie nights and live game commentaries.

Atsumu falls right into Kiyoomi's life once again and this time, he fits perfectly. He worms his way into the crevices and corners of his every part, filling him in and making him whole. Like a puzzle piece Kiyoomi never even knew was missing from the picture perfect life he was living. Like a key to the lock sealing his heart shut. It felt almost liberating—as if Kiyoomi is finally stepping outside of a cage he’s been trapped in for years.

However, things aren't perfect. There are still issues that are left undiscussed, questions left unasked, and answers left hanging. The biggest problem gripping Kiyoomi by the throat remains to be the unsettling feeling of the burden from the truth. Osamu having an idea about it lessened the weight of his lie. But as long as Atsumu remains cluelessly smiling at him, perfect teeth on display and eyes wrinkling as his grin grows wider, then everything will remain hopelessly flawed. 

Things aren't perfect, yes, but the notable thing is that they get significantly better after Kiyoomi realizes just how bad of a boyfriend he was. It's not just with the way he treads carefully around Atsumu nor the change in his attitude. It wasn't just him.

He notices it too. The subtle changes in the way Atsumu acts around him in response. He's chipper, more open, and honest to Kiyoomi. If Kiyoomi thought he was talkative before, then that was nothing compared to the barrage of messages he wakes up to every day. It's as if the walls of their relationship were finally broken down, the ice shattered and melted, and Atsumu is finally free to express himself.

Another fact that Kiyoomi realizes is that Miya Atsumu is _loud_. Being a chatterbox aside, it's not a secret that the setter talks more loudly whenever he's excited. He yells even louder than most people when he's frustrated. He screams in high pitch when something scares him.

It's just how he Atsumu is. He lives loudly—and he also loves the same way.

Atsumu being loud in love doesn’t mean he talks a lot. Sure he compliments Kiyoomi often, but that doesn’t end there. Once he’s let go of all the inhibitions, Atsumu is bold and relentless, taking care of Kiyoomi in any way possible. From reminding him to eat and ordering food for him in case he forgets, to shamelessly attending his matches and cheering as loud as possible while donned in Kiyoomi’s team colors—his professional image be damned. Atsumu doesn't shy away from affection too, rather he appreciates it. He doesn't tend to initiate anything with Kiyoomi, not even holding his hands. He's careful and considerate towards Kiyoomi's discomfort with other people touching him. So he keeps it all in and endures. He waits until it's Kiyoomi tugging at the hem of the back of his shirt. He patiently waits until Kiyoomi hooks his pinky with his. He waits and he beams when it comes.

And when Atsumu is happy, it's like the sun is shining more brightly.

It's strange. Kiyoomi knows that the way he sees Atsumu will change after knowing the truth but he still didn't expect things to go this smoothly.

_He really loves you, you know?_

Osamu's voice continuously echoes at the back of his mind and Kiyoomi wonders—why?

Why does Atsumu love him?

Of all people, why Kiyoomi?

If someone like Atsumu, someone who wants to show-off and be shown off, someone who isn't afraid to be vulnerable, someone who is as honest and sincere—why did he fall in love with a coward and a liar like Kiyoomi?

Why does he look at Kiyoomi like he hung the stars in his eyes? Why does his touch feel so gentle? Like he's afraid Kiyoomi will break if he tries to hold any tighter. Why do his eyes soften and his lips form a smile at the mere sight of Kiyoomi? Why does he never question him and pry deeper when Kiyoomi tries to hide something from him? Why does Atsumu give it his all for Kiyoomi’s sake? And why the hell did he put up with weeks of a half-hearted relationship and stayed by his side?

Why? Why? Why?

Kiyoomi doesn’t get a wink of sleep that night.

* * *

**Omi-kun:** Hey Atsu

 **Atsu:** hi omi!

 **Atsu:** what's up?

 **Omi-kun:** Why do you like me?

 **Atsu:** huh?

 **Omi-kun:** Wait no

 **Omi-kun:** Forget I asked

 **Omi-kun:** Bye

-

**Atsu:** hey omi

 **Atsu:** i guess you got flustered earlier huh?

 **Atsu:** you don't have to be

 **Atsu:** i can answer you

 **Atsu:** why do i like you? hmmm

 **Atsu:** let's see...

 **Atsu:** i like you because i can see the passion in your eyes whenever you're on the court

 **Atsu:** you work hard and you don't stop until you reach your goal

 **Atsu:** sometimes it worries me cause you tend to forget to take care of yourself but i guess i just have to remind you even if it gets annoying

 **Atsu:** i like you cause you always have this serious blank face but sometimes a hint of a smile crosses your lips and it sends my heart spiraling out of control

 **Atsu:** you have the prettiest laugh too did you know that?

 **Atsu:** you tend to cover your mouth when you laugh and your eyes wrinkle just a bit

 **Atsu:** i just find that so adorable

 **Atsu:** your hair is surprisingly soft too and i like the way your fringe curls over your forehead to reveal your moles

 **Atsu:** your moles… god don't even get me started on that because it will take us weeks

 **Atsu:** and you have big hands too, omi.

 **Atsu:** sometimes i wanna hold it and feel how warm it is with mine

 **Atsu:** and oh

 **Atsu:** i like how your voice turns soft whenever you talk about dogs

 **Atsu:** i like how your eyes light when you find something interesting

 **Atsu:** i could go on and on honestly

 **Atsu:** but is that good enough for now?

-

**Omi-kun:** Miya, what the fuck?

 **Omi-kun:** Why are you so obsessed with me?

 **Atsu:** HEY >:(

 **Atsu:** i just like you a lot

 **Atsu:** it's a normal amount for a boyfriend

 **Omi-kun:** Yeah.

 **Omi-kun:** I can see that.

-

**Omi-kun:** Thank you, Atsu.

* * *

Kiyoomi sighs for the upteenth time as he finishes highlighting a phrase from his book. He leans against his chair, resting his spine over the plastic. He begrudgingly massages his temple with one hand while the other pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I need a fucking break,” he groans, letting his head hang and stare at the ceiling.

He wonders how many more cups of coffee can he drink before his hands start shaking uncontrollably and his heart begins to palpitate? He side eyes the three empty cups at the side of his desk and winces. Maybe that’s enough for today.

A loud and familiar ringing of his phone cuts him midthought and he instantly recognizes it as the one he set for Atsumu. He uses a leg to push himself away from his study table and lets his chair roll until he's by the nightstand.

“Hello?” The other line is quiet. Kiyoomi finds it weird. Usually Atsumu would be rattling now, mouth running as he talks about anything. But the silence is deafening. Kiyoomi frowns. “Atsu?”

“Hey Omi,” Atsumu finally says after a while.

Kiyoomi lets out a sigh in relief. “Why'd you call?”

There’s a momentary pause and then Atsumu lets out a huff. “I honestly don't know either.”

“Huh?”

It shouldn’t be strange—Atsumu calling him without any reason. After all, he’s a frequent texter, often filling Kiyoomi’s inbox with random messages every single day. Atsumu would often check up on him or send Kiyoomi something he found on the internet that he thought the latter would like. They call each other a lot more now too. It saves time and requires less effort, Atsumu told him the first time. They still text but at times like this, like tonight, a call would be a preferable option.

But Atsumu has never called him without a reason. He would always have something up his sleeve. A funny story. A complaint about training or Osamu. An excited rant about a show he’s currently watching. Whatever it is—there’s always something.

“Wait, are you busy? Sorry, if I'm bothering you I'm just gonna hang up and—”

“Atsu, no! Wait!” Kiyoomi says, voice suddenly growing louder in panic. “I was studying but I'm on a break now so you're not bothering me or anything.”

“Are you sure?” Atsumu asks, voice quiet, sounding almost insecure.

“Yes, Atsu. I'm sure,” he says, voice stern, and spins himself on the chair. “Since you don't really have a reason to call, why not just tell me about your day?”

“My day?”

Kiyoomi hums. “Tell me about anything. How was your training?”

“Oh!” and it was as if a switch is triggered within Atsumu, because the moment Kiyoomi mentions training, he goes on a full tale about the events that went down. He rambles, from meeting a stray cat in his usual path for morning jog, to getting praised by his coach for being on top form. Atsumu excitedly tells Kiyoomi about the new move he practiced with Bokuto and the new hybrid serve he's been perfecting for months now. He shares stories about his other teammates, his captain, their libero, and all the other hitters that he’s gotten close with. He prattles about them for a long time that Kiyoomi finds himself weirdly interested in these people he doesn't even know.

Atsumi talks and talks.

And Kiyoomi listens.

He listens attentively, leaving encouraging hums and comments every now and then to show Atsumu that he's there. He's on the phone and he's listening to every word he says. He laughs when he says something funny, snorts when he shares something dumb, and giggles when Atsumu retells an embarrassing story.

When Atsumu is done, Kiyoomi lets out a breathy chuckle and lightly kicks at his nightstand so he can roll away. He spins his chair again like a little kid. “It seems like you had a pretty long day.”

“Training is exhausting but I had fun,” Atsumu says to no one's surprise. Truly when it comes to volleyball, there's an insatiable hunger inside Atsumu that never wavered throughout the years. On the other end of the line, Kiyoomi hears the sound of a door sliding followed by the faint rustling of leaves. Oh, he's probably out on the balcony right now. Atsumu clears his throat and then after a short while, he asks, “But what about you? How was your day, Omi-kun? Did you have a fun day? Or maybe an exhausting one?”

Kiyoomi huffs and finds himself smiling. He eyes the stack of papers and books on his desk and looks away. “Just a normal day. No training for me today but I was swamped with schoolworks and everything. Like I said earlier, I was just studying. Nothing interesting ever happens.”

“Hey, that's not true. Everything you do is interesting, Omi-omi!”

An unamused scoff. “Yeah, right. Says the professional athlete to the normal college student.”

“You're not just a college student,” Atsumu insists. “You're Sakusa Kiyoomi. You're special.”

Kiyoomi wrinkles his nose. “Well for your information, Sakusa Kiyoomi is close to becoming a burnout student athlete.”

“Oh no,we can't have that,” Atsumu clicks his tongue and Kiyoomi can imagine him shaking his head. “My Sakusa Kiyoomi needs to graduate and become one of the best spikers in the country.”

He hums, looking out his window to gaze at the night sky. The stars are shining bright tonight, he notices. Kiyoomi smiles. “That's a pretty high dream.”

“High but not impossible,” Atsumu lets out a cheery huff. “Especially not if you join the Jackals and team up with the best setter ever.”

“Kageyama Tobio is in Adlers though?”

Atsumu gasps, feigning offense. “Omi! You're so mean.”

Kiyoomi’s laughter rings within the four walls of his quiet bedroom, filling in the silence and easing his lungs. Atsumu is still whining on the other end, a pout undoubtedly on his lips as he stomps at Kiyoomi to take his words back.

“But would you really like me to join your team?” Kiyoomi suddenly asks, absentmindedly spinning on his chair. He’s sure of what his plans are after college. He already told his parents that his degree is just his back up plan—that he has always planned on joining a professional team after he graduates. They accepted it with no complaints. Perks of being the youngest child, maybe. But despite that, Kiyoomi still hasn't decided on where he’s signing. He received a number of offers throughout his years of playing with his collegiate team, and for a long time, he has always thought that he would just go with Schweiden Adlers. Top team of the division, based in Tokyo, and reigning champions of the V. Leagues for years. Wouldn’t that be the easy answer?

But as the night falls darker and the stars outside shine brighter, Kiyoomi wonders if he would look good in black.

Atsumu hums and something inside him flutters. The setter says, “Yes. I'm ready to serve you on and off the court, Omi. It's been my dream since high school, did you know that? Standing on the same side of the court as you. Facing the world and winning medals together,” he takes a deep breath. “I'm ready to walk on our path to the Olympics side by side.”

If Kiyoomi feels his face burning because of that comment, Atsumu will never know. He clicks his tongue and rolls back to his desk. He coughs and tries his best not to fumble on his words. “I think you need rest. You're starting to say the most ridiculous things, Atsu.”

He laughs. “Oh? But it sounds like you liked that ridiculous thing I said.”

“That's absurd,” Kiyoomi says in his defense, rather too quickly. Atsumu snickers on the phone and Kiyoomi's face flushes pink from his neck up to the tip of his ears. There is no way Kiyoomi liked the thought of taking a journey towards the Olympics with Atsumu. “I'm gonna go back to studying now. You should get some sleep, too.”

Instead of a reply, a yawn comes from Atsumu and Kiyoomi snorts. “Yeah, you really need to sleep, Atsu.”

“Yer right, Omi-kun,” he says, his accent more apparent as it slips through his exhaustion. “I guess I need to go to bed soon.”

“Sleep well.”

“I will. Thanks for listening to me talk for hours,” says Atsumu and somehow Kiyoomi can imagine his smile. “I'm gonna hang up now, Omi-kun. Hope you sleep well too. Goodnight.”

A soft click and the call ends. Silence fills Kiyoomi's room again and he stays there for a while, sitting on his chair, staring at his phone with its screen gone dark, and letting everything sink in.

He just had another conversation with Atsumu on the phone. The device in his hands hot from the hours of call. There's nothing quite new about it now, he knows that. But what Kiyoomi finds odd is the feeling of emptiness in his chest as soon as it ended and Atsumu bid goodbye. His brows furrow, lips pressing together in a deep thought. He heaves out a sigh and looks up, eyeing his ceiling.

Kiyoomi isn't a stranger to this feeling. He's had it before. Once or twice. Probably more. The weird fluttery feeling in his stomach. The rapid beating of his heart. The sweaty palms and the tongue-tied ramblings. It’s been with him—almost constantly for three whole years. Kiyoomi isn’t that clueless to know what it means. But what's surprising to him is the possible cause and the fact that this brings to light.

He groans and shakes his head. He throws his phone on his bed and grabs his pen. Kiyoomi pats his cheeks and takes a deep breath. Focus. Focus. _Focus_. He opens his notebook and starts writing.

Now's not the time to be thinking about superficial things like _feelings_.

Kiyoomi has a test tomorrow and he's going to ace it.

His heart can wait for another day.


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the second time, Sakusa Kiyoomi accepts defeat.

“If you can go anywhere right now, where do you want it to be?”

It’s early in the morning. Saturday. Finally, a free day from Kiyoomi’s seemingly unfaltering hell week. He’s barely out of bed—one leg thrown over the edge and the other still under the blanket. Kiyoomi blinks, still half-asleep. He pulls his phone away from his ear and checks the name of the caller.

 _Atsu,_ his phone says. Is this still a part of his dream? Is he still actually asleep right now? He frowns. “What?”

A rather boisterous laugh sounds from the other end of the line and Kiyoomi's confusion only grows.

“Stop laughing,” he says, making a noise that closely resembles a whine. Kiyoomi throws the blanket off his body and crawls out of bed, phone tucked between one ear and his shoulder. He plucks his indoor slippers from underneath the bed and begins fixing his sheets. “Why are you asking me that on a Saturday morning, Atsu?”

“Huh? Is it not obvious yet?”

Kiyoomi wrinkles his nose, flattening the creases of his bed. “I wouldn’t ask if I already know the answer.”

Atsumu laughs again, the sound of honey melting in Kiyoomi as the waves echo in his ears. He unconsciously grips his sheets tightly, crumpling the already made up bed.

“I’m asking because I'll take you there,” Atsumu chirps, excitement lacing his voice. Kiyoomi can almost see the smile on his face. The way his eyes wrinkle and his cheeks bulge as his lips stretch into a grin. Suddenly, Kiyoomi wants to utilize the video call feature of his phone. He’s a second away from requesting to facetime when Atsumu huffs then he adds, “But only as long as I can afford it, I guess. No trips around the world yet please.”

 _Yet,_ he said. Kiyoomi finds himself smiling back. He steps away from the bed and pads toward the rolling chair next to his desk. He plops himself down and carelessly spins around. “So it’s like a date?”

A date with Atsumu. The thought erupts a warmth within Kiyoomi.

“Yes, exactly!”

Kiyoomi’s heart skips a beat at the excitement in Atsumu’s tone and this time, he doesn't try to deny the blooming feeling in his chest. Kiyoomi hums as he spins around and after a while he says, “Take me to the movies then.”

There’s a few seconds of silence and if they were like any other couple, one might think the call had abruptly ended. But the two of them are used to the silence. They spend most of their nights just listening to each other do nothing but breathe. It's comforting, Kiyoomi slipped up one night and confessed. 

It takes a moment before Atsumu makes a choked noise.

“Wait, huh?” he asks. Kiyoomi giggles at the obvious confusion. He can almost imagine the dumbfounded look on his boyfriend's face. “What did you say, Omi? I think I heard you wrong.”

“Nuh-uh. I said take me to the movies,” he repeats, a stupid smile painting his face. It takes everything in him not to giggle and act all giddy during the call.

“I said I'll take you anywhere, like literally anywhere, and you want us to go to the movies?”

Kiyoomi nods, forgetting for a moment that Atsumu can't see him. “Isn't that what couples usually do?”

“Well yeah, but I didn't think you'd like it. Thought you'd say Kyoto or if I'm lucky enough then Osaka,” Atsumu murmurs.

“Maybe next time we can go to Osaka,” Kiyoomi laughs. “But I'm not really fond of long travels so I think I'd settle with seeing a movie.”

“But there's always so many people in the cinemas. Would you be okay with that?”

“Oh, right,” Kiyoomi takes a pause to think. How did he forget about that? He got too caught up in the thought of spending a day out with Atsumu that it slipped his mind how many people frequent the movie theaters in the city. He stretches out a leg at the edge of the table, stopping his chair from spinning. Kiyoomi pulls open his laptop and starts typing. He reads for a few seconds. “How about we go there late at night?”

Movie dates are more romantic at night according to his quick research after all.

“I wouldn’t mind if you really want to,” says Atsumu, the cheer in his voice slowly regaining. “Like I said, I’d take you anywhere you want. I'd be happy as long as you are.”

Kiyoomi almost swoons. “So when will we go?”

“Later if you’re free.”

He sits upright, eyes blown comically wide. He slams a hand at the edge of the desk. “What?”

Atsumu laughs as Kiyoomi’s voice goes several octaves off than usual. “I’m on my way to Tokyo right now. Gonna run an errand for Ma. So I figured why not meet you too while I’m there, right?”

“But Atsumu!” Kiyoomi scrambles out of the chair, pulling open his closet to see if he has clean clothes good enough to wear on a date. It’s Saturday after all. It’s laundry day. Kiyoomi’s closet is as good as empty. He groans. “I literally just woke up and I have no decent clean clothes left.”

“That’s fine, Omi-kun!” Another laugh rings from the other line and damn Kiyoomi would revel in that sound if not for the sudden panic seated in his gut. “We’ll go there at night anyway. You don’t need to look pretty for anyone else.”

A huff. “So are you saying that I don't look pretty when I don't dress up?”

“You know that's not what I meant, Omi omi! In my eyes, you look good whatever you wear anyway,” Atsumu says, so casually. As if he was simply stating a well-known fact instead of a sappy line that would fit teenage dramas. “So unless you’re trying to impress someone else, I don’t think it would be a problem even if you show up donned in your favorite hoodie and sweatpants.”

“You're being ridiculous again. Shut up,” Kiyoomi rattles on the phone but his face burns without an excuse. “Just tell me when you get here in Tokyo so I can get ready. I'll be digging up my cabinets in the meantime.”

Atsumu hums, a light chuckle following it. “I will! See you later, Omi-kun.”

Kiyoomi grumbles, pretending to be annoyed. “Yeah, sure. See you later.”

When the phone call ends, Kiyoomi lets himself fall back on his bed. It doesn't matter if he crumples his sheets again or if pillows get strewn around as he rolls on the bed, holding in the scream threatening to escape his throat.

He glances up at the clock hanging on his wall. _It's still too early,_ he buries his face into his pillow. Atsumu won't probably come until late afternoon. He rolls away, throwing his limbs out like a starfish, eyes focusing on the ceiling above.

Kiyoomi can't wait. Why can't Kiyoomi wait? His head is buzzing with excitement, hands trembling as he runs his fingers through his hair. He's nervous. And he's excited.

He bites his lip as the thought of going on a date with Atsumu finally settles in his mind.

Another date. With just the two of them. Watching movies. Just like what they did the first time they went out. It's a special memory—their first date. Kiyoomi had been thinking about Osamu back then. He was awkward the whole time, scared of slipping up and exposing himself.

But right now, as Kiyoomi lifts his head up to glare at his open closet, one thing is for sure.

Today, he is looking forward to their date.

* * *

“I know I said let's go at night,” Kiyoomi pauses and takes a look around the nearly empty theater room. It's dark. The only sound is coming from the whirring of the air conditioners surrounding them. “But this place is scary when it's deserted.”

“There's another couple sitting at the back though,” Atsumu tells him, turning around and squinting to focus his eyes on the two figures behind them. “We're not alone.”

The other couple in question is seated on the furthest row. Kiyoomi grimaces, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “Don't ever look back during the movie, Atsu.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Trust me. Just don't.”

Soon after, the trailers start playing on the screen and Atsumu props the popcorn he bought earlier on the armrest between the two of them. “Want some?”

Kiyoomi shakes his head, taking the coke from the holder instead. “It's messy. No thanks.”

“Do you want any other snacks then? I can go get you some outside. I'll be quick and come back just before the trailers end.”

“No need, Atsu,” Kiyoomi hums, leaning his body towards Atsumu and resting his head on his boyfriend's shoulder. “Just stay here.”

Atsumu coughs. “Okay.”

It doesn't take long for the movie to start after that. The opening credits begin to flash and Kiyoomi stays pressing close to Atsumu. It's halfway around the movie when Atsumj finishes his popcorn. He carefully flattens the box and slips it inside a paper bag, setting it aside so he can throw it before they leave. Kiyoomi stays unmoving, eyes on the screen as he tries to focus. If he's being honest, he doesn't even know what the movie is about. He pointed at a poster he found interesting and had Atsumu line up and get them tickets. In the movie, the main character introduces himself to someone and goes on a long monologue. It goes on and on until Kiyoomi smacks his lips together and pulls away from Atsumu, only to lift the armrest between them, and move closer.

“Are you cold?” Atsumu asks, dipping his head closer so Kiyoomi can hear him better.

Kiyoomi hums and presses closer. “A bit.”

“You wanna snuggle then?” Atsumu asks, burying his nose in Kiyoomi's locks. He brings his hands up and his fingers lightly touch the back of Kiyoomi's neck.

Kiyoomi instantly feels the hair in his body standing up at the contact. Atsumu's touch feels warm, a huge contrast with the cool air blowing from the built-in air conditioner. Kiyoomi is not that cold. He can handle this much. His classrooms in the university can be colder than this. But right now, Kiyoomi is seriously considering his boyfriend's offer—and for someone who would usually shy away from touch, Atsumu makes him crave for more.

“Sure,” he says, mouth moving faster than his brain.

Atsumu hums without another word, complying with the request by adjusting himself on his seat. He taps Kiyoomi's shoulder to make him lift his head, then pushes backward, unzipping his jacket and opening it for Kiyoomi to fit right in. Kiyoomi doesn't need to be told twice. He curls into Atsumu's arms, basking in the warmth of his body and jacket.

“Feeling better now?” Atsumu whispers.

“Mhm,” Kiyoomi hums with a smile. He knows Atsumu can't see him, not in this position. So Kiyoomi doesn't hold back the grin tugging at his lips. “All better.”

And maybe, just maybe, it's not just the cold Kiyoomi is pertaining to. Maybe it's the way he feels at ease like this—tucked and fitted right in Miya Atsumu's arms. Maybe it's the way his lungs constrict and butterflies erupt in his stomach. Maybe it's the loud drumming of his heart against his chest. Maybe it's the fact that Kiyoomi has long stopped thinking about Osamu beyond a best friend should.

“Right,” Kiyoomi mutters under his breath, soft and quiet. “It's all better now.”

* * *

Weeks later and there's only one thing in Kiyoomi's mind.

 _He should've known_.

It was bound to happen sooner than later. With finals coming up in a few weeks, Kiyoomi has done nothing but study his ass off in the past few days. He doesn't even know the last time he went out and visited a place where he doesn't study—probably more than a week ago when Atsumu dragged him out for a date.

But lately, Kiyoomi has been staying in the library, buried under the piles of papers and books until closing time, only moving when the librarian finally politely asks him to leave. Once out of the library, Kiyoomi then heads to his favorite coffee shop where he pulls out his notes and studies until the letters start to blur and his head begins to spin.

It's unhealthy, he knows that—and Kiyoomi has been on the receiving end of Motoya, Osamu, and most especially, Atsumu's lectures about taking care of himself. He has gotten food deliveries at the wee hours of the night, courtesy of his cousin making sure that he's eating on time. Even Osamu has been coming over more often too. He says it's because he's bored in his apartment and wants to bother someone, but Kiyoomi knows it's his best friend's way of looking after him—by cooking him food and watching over him as he studies.

Kiyoomi's nights have never been dull as well. Not when Atsumu calls him every night, asking about his day and chatting him up for hours, an excuse to give him the time to rest no matter how short. It's sweet really—having all these people care about him loudly and proudly. But Kiyoomi's studying habits have been instilled in him for as long as he can remember. He survived high school and got through all the past semesters the same way. The shocking amount of caffeine intake and the sleepless nights have been a part of his daily routine in his whole life. Kiyoomi thinks it's a habit that's impossible to let go that easily.

So when Kiyoomi wakes up one morning feeling like he's been doused with a bucket of water, his body shivering even though it's in the middle of spring, and the inside of his head thumping like a hundred elephants on a fucking march, he instantly knew what it meant.

Sakusa Kiyoomi is sick.

He coughs, loud and wet. He feels his throat ache, every swallow scratching at his insides. He reaches for his phone with trembling hands. Fortunately for him, he always keeps it within reach on his nightstand.

It's early in the morning and his first class doesn't start until three hours from now. He carefully types a message for Osamu, telling him his situation and asking him for the favor of letting his professors know of his state.

Osamu quickly replies with a barrage of angry emojis, lots of _i told you so_ 's and a reminder to take care of himself. He promises to come over after his last class to make him some porridge but Kiyoomi immediately turns him down, not wanting to get his best friend sick as well.

He tells Motoya next. It goes worse than his conversation with Osamu. His cousin replies in a screaming uppercases, scolding him for always overworking and asking if anyone is around to take care of him. Kiyoomi winces as he reads through his texts, somehow hearing his voice from the phone even though they weren't even on call. Kiyoomi lies and tells Motoya that Osamu is coming over. That shuts his cousin up and Motoya resorts to lecturing him with a series of long messages. Kiyoomi groans and locks his phone. He will read those later, but not right now.

What he needs is more rest and that's exactly what he will get.

He doesn't know how long he's been asleep after that but when he's pulled back into consciousness again, it's significantly hotter than it was before. It's probably noon now. Kiyoomi feels his stomach churn. He needs to eat so he can take his medicine. But standing up is too much work, more so making his own food in the kitchen. He groans, slowly blinking his eyes open. It's a little blurry at first but when his sight clears, he startles awake. Is he that sick that he's starting to see things? Kiyoomi blinks rapidly, focusing his sight on the very realistic image of a Miya hovering over him.

Which twin is this? Did Osamu come by even though Kiyoomi specifically told him not to? But no. It's still too early. Osamu's last class doesn't end until late in the afternoon. Kiyoomi's thoughts whirr inside his head and he groans in pain. Okay, no more thinking for him. Thinking is prohibited until he's all better. Instead, Kiyoomi settles with fixing his gaze on the top of the Miya's head, trying his best to decipher whether he's seeing brown or blond using his blurred sight.

And when he realizes that this Miya is someone who isn't supposed to be here, Kiyoomi's heart skips a beat.

Was he thinking too much about Atsumu that he ended up hallucinating him?

Fake Atsumu's brows furrow and his lips downturn into a deep frown. His hair is a mess, as if he just finished running a marathon. That would also explain the heaving of his chest, the flushed look on his face and the sweat on his forehead. Either that or Kiyoomi is somehow manifesting a sick Atsumu to accompany his equally sick self.

“Omi, you're burning up,” says the fake Atsumu and wow, even his voice sounds the same as the real one. Kiyoomi snuggles to his pillow, suddenly missing the sound of his boyfriend's voice. If he weren't so sick he would grab his phone and dial Atsumu's number as soon as he could.

Kiyoomi feels a touch on his forehead, a hand brushing his dampened curls away from his face. “I'm gonna make you some porridge so you can eat and drink your medicine. But for now, get more rest, okay?”

He hums, agreeing to the words of the fake Atsumu. It's not like he has any other choice but to rest.

So Kiyoomi listens like a good boy and lets himself drift off to sleep.

When he wakes up for the third time that day, it's to the smell of food.

Kiyoomi's eyes flutter open and he sees fake Atsumu sitting by his bedside. His hair is no longer unkempt, brushed properly and styled like the usual. Kiyoomi smiles dopily. Atsumu must look that good that even this conjured image of him looks fantastic.

“Time for you to eat, Omi-kun,” fake Atsumu says and that's when Kiyoomi notices the bowl in his hand and the spoon in the other. He blinks.

“You cooked?” he asks, in awe. He didn't know Atsumu, well fake Atsumu, can cook. He pulls his blanket off from his body and slowly shifts to a sitting position.

“Yeah. Samu and I both had mom as our teacher growing up,” Atsumu tells him with a fond smile, moving the spoon full of porridge closer to Kiyoomi's mouth. Kiyoomi lets himself be fed and Atsumu watches him eat with fondness. He says, “He just ended up loving the kitchen more than I did.”

“Oh,” Kiyoomi whispers and under his breath, he mutters, “Just like you but with volleyball.”

Fake Atsumu hears him and laughs. “Yeah. Just like me with volleyball.”

They stay like that for a while. Kiyoomi on the bed, half asleep and body still on fire, and Fake Atsumu sitting on his chair by the side of the bed. He feeds Kiyoomi and makes him drink his medicine. He wipes him down with a towel wet with cold water and helps him change his clothes. He hands Kiyoomi a new mask from his stash and then tucks him back to bed.

By the end of it all, just before sleep pulls at his consciousness again, Kiyoomi thinks he already feels a lot better.

* * *

It's dark when Kiyoomi wakes up again. His head still hurts but it's significantly less than this morning. His body feels normal now too, unlike the feeling of being boiled earlier. He notices the different set of clothes he's wearing and nearly panics in confusion before he remembers Atsumu.

The realization startles Kiyoomi awake.

He looks around his room, narrowing his eyes to focus and see better amidst the dark surroundings. His lights are off, probably to keep him asleep longer. But Kiyoomi lives alone and no one should have been able to turn off the lights since he can't even lift a finger without feeling like his head will blow up any minute.

So it could only be Atsumu. None of it was a dream. Not Atsumu taking his temperature. Not him cooking and feeding him porridge, nor helping him change his clothes.

But then why is Atsumu in Tokyo? And where is he now?

As if on cue, the door to Kiyoomi's room creaks, and slowly opens. A small ray of light fills the room and Kiyoomi blinks his eyes rapidly to adjust his sight, just in time to see a blond head poking through the narrow gap.

“Omi-kun, you're awake!” he says, a smile stretching across his lips.

Kiyoomi watches Atsumu mutely, trying to drink in the sight of him. Atsumu opens the door wider and more light floods in, casting af the room and his features. He doesn't know if it was because of the hair reflecting the light or if Atsumu just naturally shines bright in the middle of Kiyoomi's dark bedroom.

“Why are you here?” is the first thing that comes out of Kiyoomi's mouth.

Atsumu stiffens from where stood and Kiyoomi sees him bite his lip as he awkwardly scratches his cheek.

“Samu told me you were sick so—”

“I already got that part. No one else could have told you,” Kiyoomi cuts him off abruptly, making him cough. Atsumu quickly runs to his side, handing him the glass of water he had previously prepared on the nightstand. Kiyoomi takes it with a muttered gratitude, carefully tugging his mask down to drink. When he feels better, he sets the empty glass down, places his mask back up to his nose, and looks at his boyfriend with a stern gaze. “What I meant was, what are you doing in Tokyo? Don't you have training? I remember just three days ago, you told me you were going to be busy because the season's about to start.”

“Ah that,” Atsumu smiles and shakes his head. “Don't worry about it. We're going to be training in Tokyo for a few days again. I just got here when Samu called me this morning.”

“Shouldn't you be with your team then?”

“Today's our free day!” Atsumu replies, a little too quickly. Kiyoomi's forehead creases, a question lying at the tip of his tongue. But he says nothing. Atsumu grins, both hands on his hips. “Training starts tomorrow afternoon so I still have time.”

“Then are you sure it's okay that you're here?” Kiyoomi asks, coughing into his mask again. “What if you get sick too?”

“Don't worry about that. I have an amazing immune system,” the blond waves his hand and shakes his head no. “I always used to take care of Samu when he gets sick and I'm always just fine and dandy afterward.”

“Really?” Another cough. “I wouldn't want you to get sick because of me.”

“Really, Omi-omi. Trust me,” Atsumu promises, right hand placed over his left chest. “I'll be fine and I'm gonna nurse you back to health.”

“I swear if you catch a cold, Atsu—”

Atsumu sighs and sits on the bed, next to Kiyoomi. He leans forward, one hand touching Kiyoomi's forehead and the other on his own. His expression scrunches for a bit, and then his face lights up and he flashes a smile. “Your temperature is way lower than this morning. You're practically all better now, but I'm gonna heat up the porridge so you can eat and then drink your medicine again. Bet you'll be as good as new by tomorrow.”

“Atsu, wait—” Kiyoomi tries to call out, but Atsumu is quick on his feet and is already out of the room by the time Kiyoomi could even finish uttering a single word.

Atsumu takes care of Kiyoomi like that. He feeds him, makes him drink his medicine, wipes him down, and then helps him change out of his clothes and into a clean set of pajamas. Kiyoomi lets him do all that without so much as a peep of complaint coming out of his lips. He feels his face burn all throughout but he isn't sure if it was from the embarrassment or the fever.

It's around midnight when Atsumu yawns.

“Oh, it's late,” Atsumu says, looking at his phone. “I should get going now—”

“Wait, Atsu,” Kiyoomi calls, voice so soft and quiet, it's almost a whisper. Atsumu hears him though. The night is filled with nothing but silence that even the slightest sound is enough to be heard. What more a call of a name so sweet? Kiyoomi nervously nibbles down his lip. “You can stay the night if you want to.”

“Huh?” Atsumu blinks at him, already out of his seat and ready to leave. “What did you say, Omi-kun?”

Kiyoomi clears his throat, embarrassment finally catching up to him. “I said the last train already left a long time ago so it would be better to just stay the night and leave tomorrow morning.”

“I can just book a cab—”

“It's expensive.”

Atsumu falls into a silence. A silence that stretches into an uncomfortable and suffocating one. Kiyoomi feels like his fever came back in a whiplash, his entire body burning from the soles of his feet up to the top of his head. Atsumu is staring at Kiyoomi as if he grew another head, mouth slightly ajar and head tilted to the side in apparent confusion.

“You know, if you really don't want to stay then I can't keep you—”

“Alright.”

“I can just pay you for the cab and—wait, what?”

Atsumu chuckles and he looks at Kiyoomi with the softest and sweetest smile. “I said I'll stay. If you'll still have me, that is.”

It takes everything in him not to melt under his boyfriend's gaze. Kiyoomi clears his throat and tears his eyes away, burying his face into his pillow.

“That's good,” he says, words muffled.

“So,” Atsumu laughs. “Where do you keep the spare blankets and pillows?”

Kiyoomi doesn't even know how it happens nor how they arrived at this situation, but one moment he had just successfully convinced Atsumu to stay the night, and then the next, the said man is lying on the bed next to him instead of the couch in the living room. One of Atsumu's arms is carefully draped around his shoulder and the other slipped under his neck, hand gently patting on Kiyoomi's head.

It was too sudden. Kiyoomi feels his body burn with fire but he can't pinpoint whether it's his fever coming back or because of the searing feeling of Atsumu's skin on his.

It's exhilarating. Kiyoomi never realized how conflicted a touch makes him feel. They did snuggle when they were in the cinemas, yes. But Kiyoomi had a solid excuse back then even though it was a lie on his part. He hadn't been cold. He just wanted Atsumu to hold him—and that's exactly what he's feeling now too no matter how much he tries to deny it.

His head feels all messed up—torn between wanting to push Atsumu away, to wrap himself with his blanket and protect himself from another's touch, or doing nothing and letting it happen. Even so, the feeling of Atsumu pulling him close and tucking his head between his shoulder and neck brings Kiyoomi a sense of comfort.

Strangely enough, even Atsumu's smell wasn't unpleasant to Kiyoomi's nose. Granted he took it upon himself to shower on his own before slipping on the bed next to Kiyoomi, there's still something about Atsumu that reels him in. He burrows his face deeper into his boyfriend's neck and slowly breathes. Atsumu smells nice—a mix of lavender soap and bath salt strong enough to go through his mask. Kiyoomi smiles against the thin fabric.

“Hey Omi,” Atsumu says softly, his hand never leaving the top of Kiyoomi's head. His fingers find their way between the locks, carding through the latter's hair and loosening tangles. “If you feel uncomfortable with me touching you, just say so, okay?”

Kiyoomi hums, nodding his head in appreciation. Maybe before that would have been useful. But right now, Kiyoomi doubts he would need to do that.

“Are you still feeling cold?”

Kiyoomi shakes his head and snuggles even closer to Atsumu, making him chuckle. “No, this is good enough.”

“You think you can sleep well now?”

Another nod. “Yeah. Thanks, Atsu.”

“Anything for you, Omi,” he says, his words piercing Kiyoomi with sincerity.

And when the night engulfs them in darkness, the only light illuminating them coming from the moon outside, the silence envelopes them in its arms.

Kiyoomi is breathing steadily, quiet, and unmoving. He closes his eyes, ready to fall back into the dreamland when he hears it. Soft-spoken and sweet. Words so heavy yet so gentle. Muttered against his hair, breath almost kissing his skin.

“I love you, Kiyoomi. Sleep well, baby.”

And if Kiyoomi gets the best sleep he's had in a while, then no one needs to know.

* * *

When Kiyoomi stirs awake the next morning, he's immediately greeted by the bright light seeping through the curtains of his window. The sun shines outside, casting his room with glow and warmth. Kiyoomi's eyes blink, adjusting his sight for the new day. He shifts on the bed, twisting and turning his body, only to be met by a sleeping Atsumu.

Kiyoomi stills in shock. Suddenly he feels the weight of an arm around his waist and sees his own leg thrown over Atsumu's thighs. His face burns and he finds himself staring—for quite a long time—that he's sure he already printed the image into the back of his mind. But then who can blame him? Not when the strands of the dyed blond hair fall gently on his forehead, the light making him look somewhat brighter. He looks peaceful like this. Brows not knitted but instead, relaxed and at ease. Atsumu seems a bit younger this way, Kiyoomi chuckles. His eyes trace the sleeping man's every feature, drinking every last bit of him in. It's almost unfair how good he looks. Features a perfect mix of sharp and soft. Nose tall and jaw sculpted by the gods. Eyebrows thick and lips a nice shade of pink. It's almost as if he was pulled straight out of a painting. Kiyoomi stares and stares and— _Oh_ , even his lashes are pretty, Kiyoomi thinks to himself as he sees them flutter and curve upward.

A loud chime snaps him out of his reverie and he blinks out of his trance. He reluctantly takes his phone on the nightstand next to him and immediately sees the barrage of messages from his cousin.

**Best Cousin:** hey how are you feeling?

 **Best Cousin:** are you still sick?

 **Best Cousin:** i'm heading over there tomorrow morning!

**Best Cousin:** i'm already in tokyo

 **Best Cousin:** are you still asleep?

 **Best Cousin:** well i guess that's a good thing

 **Best Cousin:** oh and i'm using your spare key so i can cook you breakfast when i get there in a while!

**Best Cousin:** …

 **Best Cousin:** yeah idk when you'll read this cause you're asleep

 **Best Cousin:** but i'm sitting in your kitchen

 **Best Cousin:** made you guys some breakfast too

 **Best Cousin:** just come out when you're ready

 **Best Cousin:** i'm waiting for you

Kiyoomi groans after reading the last message from Motoya's long thread. Fuck. Of course. He got so lost in his own head last night that he didn't bother to consider the fact that Motoya owns a spare key to his apartment. He made himself one that he keeps for emergencies. Emergencies like Kiyoomi getting sick without anyone to take care of him.

He carefully untangles himself from a sleeping Atsumu, lifting the arms from his waist and taking off the leg he had draped over the blond's thighs. He quietly slips off the bed and treks the floor with light steps until he reaches his door.

Kiyoomi takes one last look at the sleeping boy on his bed.

 _He looks beautiful,_ he thinks. _I wish I could stare at him forever_ , is the only thought repeatedly running in his mind before he pulls the door open, and finally steps outside.

* * *

“Good morning. Feeling better now?”

Kiyoomi hums, pulling his cabinets open to grab his mug. He carefully places it down the table and Motoya points him the jar of coffee beans and the thermos of hot water. Kiyoomi takes his french press from the counter and sighs in relief when he sees that Motoya already cleaned it after use.

“So,” his cousin clears his throat. Kiyoomi already knows what he's going to say but he holds his tongue and pretends to be immersed in making his coffee.

“I thought you liked Osamu?” Motoya asks.

Despite his expectation, Kiyoomi still turns to Motoya with a frown. “Where exactly is this question coming from?”

“I found you and Atsumu cuddling when I got here this morning and it didn't look like it was against your will. You looked rather comfortable in his arms to be honest. So much for being sick,” Motoya looks at him, hooking his finger through the handle of the mug and bringing it close to his lips. “But doesn't he live in Osaka?”

“They have another team training in Tokyo this week,” answers Kiyoomi, choosing to ignore the first things his cousin said.

“Interesting,” Motoya hums and slowly takes a sip from his coffee. “Washio-san was just talking to Bokuto-san the other day and he said they will be very busy training next week so he won't be able to visit Akaashi-san in Tokyo.”

His hands freeze. Kiyoomi scowls. “What?”

“The Jackals are training in Osaka, Kiyoomi. Not Tokyo,” Motoya sighs. The mug makes a soft thud when he places it back on the coaster. Motoya props his elbow on the table and rests his chin on his palm. “So we can easily assume that he came to Tokyo for you. Not for training. Not for anything else.”

“He did not.”

“He probably found out you were sick from Osamu and then hopped on the next train to Tokyo to take care of you.”

“Yeah right. Are you forgetting the fact that his twin brother is also currently staying in Tokyo? He might have come to visit him,” Kiyoomi retorts, moving on autopilot as he pours the contents of the french press into his mug. 

His cousin snorts, leaning against his hair and crossing his arms. “Of course not. How can I forget when you've been pining over the said twin brother for three years? Your resident Waseda Business Major Hottie, Tokyo Boy Miya Osamu.”

“If you know that then what are you even talking about, Toya?” Kiyoomi asks, supressing annoyance.

“I'm just saying even before he came to visit you yesterday, Atsumu has already been coming over in your apartment more frequently than I do,” Motoya shrugs, dropping his arms back to his side. “And between the two of us, Kiyo, I'm the blood relative.”

“He's my boyfriend, Motoya,” he replies without skipping a beat. Kiyoomi notices the twitch of his cousin's brow and the curve of his lips. He didn't even know why he reacted that quickly. Kiyoomi's face flushes pink and he looks away, breaking eye contact with Motoya. He should really wear his mask at home when anyone is around.

“You know, Kiyoomi,” Motoya says, absentmindedly stirring his cup of coffee. “For someone who laid out an alcohol besotted confession to the wrong twin, you're getting pretty good at acting like you actually have feelings for Atsumu.”

Kiyoomi's heart jumps and he turns to Motoya, giving him a dirty look.

“Quiet down, Toya,” he hisses, sending a sharp glare his cousin's way. “Atsu is still in my room. If he hears you, I will skin you alive.”

“What did you just call him?”

Kiyoomi, realizing what he just said, his face turns even redder behind his mug. He fakes a cough and grumbles. “Shut up.”

“Uh oh, wait,” a grin slowly stretches across Motoya's lips, wicked and suspicious. “I get it now.”

Kiyoomi glowers. “Huh? What do you get?”

“You like him now, don't you?” Motoya asks in a nasal voice, wagging his eyebrows suggestively as he makes obnoxious kissy faces in front of Kiyoomi.

Instead of embarrassment, all Kiyoomi feels is frustration. He feels his brow twitch in annoyance and he fixes Moyoya with a stern and unimpressed gaze. “What are you saying? I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Oh wow, you're getting defensive, Kiyo,” Motoya chuckles, finding the scowl on Kiyoomi's face amusing. “So I take it that I'm right? You do like Atsumu now.”

Kiyoomi was ready to refute, to open his mouth and deny his cousin's words. But before he can do it, memories from last night come flooding his mind. He stills. He looks at his cousin and feels a lump forming in his throat. There's a fire in his chest, the heat enveloping his heart and rising to the tip of his tongue. His forehead creases and a moment of hesitation follows.

_Does he?_

It hasn't been that long since Kiyoomi started moving on from his crush on Osamu. He feels comfortable around Atsumu and feels happy whenever he's around. Kiyoomi meets the same butterflies stirring in him whenever Atsumu calls at night. He hears his beating heart drumming to a rhythmic beat whenever their hands touch. He's aware of all that. But isn't it too soon? He isn't some kind of rebound right? Could he really be developing feelings for Atsumu?

“I wouldn't be surprised if you like him now though,” Motoya suddenly says, pulling him out of his stupor. Kiyoomi blinks at him and his cousin offers him a shrug. “I mean, you always make sure you see things through to the end, right? You never half ass anything so I guess it applies to dating someone too. If you're going to commit then you're going to give it your all. Heart included.”

It shouldn't make sense. But strangely enough, it does. Kiyoomi knows he could have called it off, break up with Atsumu and just make up an excuse when Osamu asks. Kiyoomi is smart enough to come up with a believable one. He could have done a lot of things to run away from the relationship he never wanted. And yet he never did.

Under the pretense of not wanting to hurt anyone, Kiyoomi has selfishly continued, not caring if he hurt himself in the process.

So was that it? Was his goal to make himself fall for Atsumu all this time? Did he even succeed in that? It doesn't seem so. Not yet.

Then again Motoya was right. Atsumu does come over to Kiyoomi's apartment every time he visits Tokyo. Aside from that, how can Kiyoomi explain their frequent calls and exchange of messages? He used to always have an excuse whenever Atsumu would try to call him. But ever since finding out that Osamu had been taking care of him under Atsumu's request, it was like a switch was flipped within Kiyoomi. He stopped feeding Atsumu excuses and religiously answered all his messages. Sometimes, but rarely, he would even be the one to initiate the conversation. And perhaps, the greatest evidence of it all is the fact that Kiyoomi would never let just anyone into his bed, and allow someone to hold him if he didn't trust them enough. 

So perhaps Kiyoomi doesn't like Atsumu the same way he liked Osamu.

But it might just be more than that.

“But Kiyo,” Motoya clears his throat, catching Kiyoomi's attention and successfully dragging him back from his fleeting thoughts. “Whether you fall for him or not, I think you still need to tell him the truth. About the whole drunken confession thing and Osamu.”

Kiyoomi stills. “I know.”

He does. He knows it. He dreads it. It's a worry that has been bugging him for a long time. How does one admit to all that? Kiyoomi doesn't know. He's afraid to find out.

But Miya Atsumu doesn't deserve to be lied to. Not when he gives all of him to Kiyoomi. His heart and trust ripped out from him and was handed down by Kiyoomi's feet the moment he said yes. So even though it will be hard, Kiyoomi knows he has to tell him the truth someday and prepare himself for the consequences.

He will do it soon.

For now, he'll let himself have this peace for a little while longer.

* * *

Atsumu bids him goodbye in the afternoon.

Motoya is still in Kiyoomi's living room, lounging on his couch like he owns the place, when Atsumu rises from the bed. He pads his bare feet on the floor, heading straight to the kitchen where Kiyoomi is heating the breakfast his cousin made. 

“Good morning, Atsu.”

“Mornin', Omi.”

They eat breakfast silently with only the sound of the steel meeting porcelain echoing in the room. No more words follow the greeting, neither of them initiating a conversation. Kiyoomi wonders why. Is Atsumu getting shy? But this is Atsumu. He's always been bold whenever he's with Kiyoomi. He usually doesn't think before spewing the cheesiest and sappiest lines on call. So why is he quiet now when it matters? Kiyoomi knows they should talk about a lot of things. Mainly the fact that Atsumu went to Tokyo to take care of him, slept over, stayed in Kiyoomi's room, and cuddled with him all night. But Atsumu doesn't bring it up. Even Motoya has decided to shut his mouth and pretend he doesn't exist.

Somehow, the deafening silence in his apartment makes Kiyoomi feel uncomfortable. He squirms on his seat. How can something that used to bring him peace suddenly make him feel like he's suffocating? Kiyoomi doesn't even know when he got so used to the noise—the loudness of the man in front of him becoming more familiar than the silence of his sanctuary.

Breakfast passes and Atsumu instantly starts to mother him again like nothing is wrong—like he didn't just spend half an hour ignoring Kiyoomi. Atsumu leads him back to his bedroom, one hand at the small of his back and the other clutching his shoulder. Motoya finally moves from the couch as they leave, offering to wash the dishes, but not without sending a knowing glance at Kiyoomi.

When inside the four walls of Kiyoomi's bedroom, Atsumu hands him the medicine for his fever together with a glass of water. Atsumu tucks him back to bed and gently brushes the stray strands of hair out of his eyes.

Kiyoomi's heart soars, warmth filling him from the inside. So this is what being loved by Miya Atsumu feels like?

The care for every little detail, the thought he puts into every thing he does, the gentle way he moves, and the gut wrenching butterflies he sends at the of Kiyoomi's stomach.

He looks at Atsumu, fondness oozing out of him. “Atsu?”

“Mhm?”

“Thank you.”

_Thank you for taking care of me last night._

_Thank you for being understanding._

_Thank you for always respecting my boundaries._

_Thank you for always thinking of me._

_Thank you for loving me._

Kiyoomi wants to thank him for several things but instead, he reaches out for Atsumu's hand, interlocking their fingers and giving him a gentle squeeze.

Atsumu's eyes widen in surprise, but he squeezes Kiyoomi's hand back and smiles at him. Yet something feels off. His smile doesn't reach his eyes. It doesn't make his cheeks bulge to show that little dimple nor make his brows draw together, wrinkling his forehead. Instead this smile feels different. Blank. Almost empty.

“Atsu? You okay?” he asks, concern lacing his voice.

“Of course, Omi,” Atsumu replies, forcing another smile. “Just thinking about the practice later.”

Oh, right. Kiyoomi remembers Motoya's words again. According to Washio-san, the Jackals do have an intense training regimen this week—but not in Tokyo. All of them are back home and waiting for their setter to show up. Atsumu knows that he needs to get back to Osaka soon. He's probably worried about catching the next train.

“Hey, Atsu,” Kiyoomi starts, thumb caressing over Atsumu's knuckles. “If you need to leave now for training then it's ok. You can go. I'll be fine now.”

Atsumu deflates. “Are you sure? Are you feeling better now?”

He hums. “Of course. I just need to sleep this off, and if I need help, Toya's out there to take care of me.”

Atsumu pauses, looking like he's seriously weighing his choices. His brows furrow, his lips puckering into a small pout. Kiyoomi chuckles and extends his other hand to flick at his forehead.

“Don't think too much and just go, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi encourages him with a smile.

“Alright,” Atsumu sighs as he slowly untangles Kiyoomi's hand from his own. He stands up from his seat, brushing his pants off. He smiles back. “I guess it's time for me to go, huh?”

A nod. “Take care.”

“I will,” he says it so softly, so gentle and almost melancholic, that it makes Kiyoomi's heart clench. _Ah, he's never been this sad to say goodbye to anyone before_ , he realizes.

Atsumu gives him one last look before he turns.

“Bye, Omi-kun.”

“Bye, Atsumu.”

But Atsumu doesn't respond anymore. He turns on his heel, back facing Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi sees him take a deep breath and for a second, he almost expects him to falter at his steps, come back to the side of the bed, and maybe hold Kiyoomi one last time.

Yet Atsumu lightly shakes his head and continues to move forward. One step further. A second one. Then another. Until he's finally turning the knob, pulling the door open, and then without another word, steps outside.

He never looks back as he leaves.

Not even once.

* * *

The beginning of an end starts like this.

A series of unanswered text messages, left sitting in Atsumu's inbox, neither seen nor read.

**Omi-kun** : Atsumu hey

 **Omi-kun** : Did you get home to Osaka safely?

 **Omi-kun** : Please text me when you arrive

It goes on for days, leaving Kiyoomi feeling agitated.

Why is Atsumu not answering? He nervously bites at his nails as he prances back and forth around his living room. Did Atsumu perhaps end up getting sick after taking care of Kiyoomi?

**Omi-kun:** Are you okay?

 **Omi-kun:** You're not sick, are you?

 **Omi-kun:** If you are then let me just say "I told you so"

 **Omi-kun:** But if you're not then how are you?

Yet days pass, turning into a week, then stretching into two, and all Kiyoomi gets is silence.

**Omi-kun** : Hey, so I heard from Samu that you're doing fine lately.

 **Omi-kun:** At least you're replying to your brother I guess?

 **Omi-kun** : Are you busy right now?

Sometimes, his anxiety gets the worst of him.

**Omi-kun:** Is this payback when I accidentally ignored you before?

 **Omi-kun:** Didn't think it would suck this much though

 **Omi-kun:** I'll reply as fast as I can next time

But other times, he reasons well with his own thoughts.

**Omi-kun** : Oh wait, the season's about to start so you must be busy with training.

 **Omi-kun** : Sorry for bothering you.

 **Omi-kun** : Please text me when you can, okay?

At the end of the day, Sakusa Kiyoomi is just human. He can't fight fate nor question destiny. He can't stop what's meant to be no matter how hard he tries.

**Sakusa Kiyoomi** : Atsu?

 **Sakusa Kiyoomi** : It's been two weeks and I heard you're answering everyone but me

 **Sakusa Kiyoomi** : I guess you really are ignoring me huh?

 **Sakusa Kiyoomi** : Did I do something wrong?

 **Sakusa Kiyoomi** : At least tell me what it is

 **Sakusa Kiyoomi:** Please

And just like him, Miya Atsumu is just human. He has a heart—a mass of muscle so small and strong, but nevertheless still fragile. Almost resembling a shiny glass, beautiful and captivating, yet can be broken when not handled with care. 

**Atsu** : Sakusa, let's break up.

In Tokyo, Sakusa Kiyoomi stares blankly at his phone, hands shaking as the words remain displayed on the screen.

Gone is the sweet nickname that he secretly likes to hear. Gone are the sweet words and the overflowing love that Atsumu bears with every message. Gone are the things that Kiyoomi got used to.

As Kiyoomi reads the text over and over again, he hears something shatter in the distance. A crack and them followed by a loud clattering. Kiyoomi feels numb, broken, and tired. He feels something warm on his cheek, rolling down and wetting his skin. He lifts a hand and touches his eyes.

He's crying, Kiyoomi registers.

Why is he crying?

Atsumu made the right decision. He never really said why or what made him write those words but no matter what his reason is, isn't it better if he leaves Kiyoomi? He resists the urge to text back, shutting his phone and setting it aside.

He breathes in slowly, then exhales even slower. His lungs feel like they would burst any time soon as he lets his mind wander. _Maybe this should have happened sooner,_ a thought wriggles into his head. Someone like Kiyoomi can never love Atsumu the way he deserves. Kiyoomi can never be as loud or as open. He can never be easily vulnerable and personal. Kiyoomi is stoic and uptight. Kiyoomi is stubborn, evasive, and sometimes impatient. Atsumu deserves better. Someone who can freely initiate touches and hold lasting conversations. Someone who can take him anywhere he wants and proudly hold his hand. Someone who doesn't lie and pretend.

He deserves someone who isn't Kiyoomi.

A bitter laugh escapes his throat as another thought comes to mind.

Now he doesn't need to be afraid of telling Atsumu the truth. No more fear or rejection. No more rattled scenarios wrecking his head. He doesn't need to lose sleep and worry about it every single breath.

He doesn't have anything more to lose.

 _It's okay_ , he tries to convince himself as he throws his body back on his bed. _At least you can stop pretending now_.

He curls his body into a ball, arms hugging his knees close to his body. It feels cold—freezing. His bedsheets smell strange. His hands are light and trembling. The eerie silence in his bedroom, deafening. Kiyoomi feels the tears prickle before they're falling, heart breaking, and a humourless laugh cracking as he comes to a halting realization.

He doesn't even remember the last time he pretended around Atsumu.

Everything had been real and genuine.

He had been truly falling for him.

But now it's all too late.

  
  
And just like that, under the moonlight seeping through the curtains, in the middle of a dimly lit room of a studio apartment, everything ends.

For the second time, Sakusa Kiyoomi accepts defeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy sakuatsu angst week i guess?

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked this fic, please feel free to leave kudos and comments below! it would mean a lot to me, i swear.
> 
> you can find also find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/omiyarins)


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